On Erik's Wings
by Sybl Angelkat
Summary: During the Opera House fire, Erik is whisked into the future and given a teaching job as a music teacher at a local school by the real Angel of Music. Does he have what it takes to leave his past behind for good?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, I'm at it again

A/N: Yes, I'm at it again. With all the wonderful reviews pouring in from "Thunder and Roses", I couldn't resist writing another POTO Phanfic. This one's going to be different from the last one, though. As usual, I encourage you to send reviews. If you don't care for the story, please don't flame. I'll try to update more often since this is summer and I don't have such a wild schedule.

Erik: (plays organ menacingly) I told you I'd be back!

Me: (hugs) of course. I told you, I'll always have the couch made up! On with the story!

Erik: (Sighs) Here we go again. What have I gotten myself into?

Chapter 1

Heart pounding, eyes burning. Skin beginning to feel the scorch from the air above. Skin that was still begging for her touch. His resolve had crumbled along with his heart. Raoul had said he was nothing but a man. Erik knew he was wrong; he wasn't a man. He was a ghost of a man, the remains of a shattered spirit. His spirit was shattered just as badly as the mirrors he'd destroyed. Christine's ring was pressed into the palm of his hand, feeling strangely hot against his cold, clammy palms. His body was shaking violently and he suddenly felt very weak.

The mob was getting closer, he could feel them. They would be here any second. Maybe he should just give himself up and get it over with. Despite the logic in his situation, some primitive instinct forced him to step into the tunnel that one of the mirrors had been hiding. It was pitch black in there. Normally, he embraced darkness, but what awaited him in that tunnel? For all he knew, he would emerge into flames or a storm of bullets. But something drove him onward just as he heard sounds of splashing in the nearby lake. Erik's stomach soured although he hadn't eaten in days. He wasn't sure where he was walking, he just walked. Then, a growing sensation of dread began to build. He would have shaken his head and laughed if this had been any other time. Why on earth was he so afraid?

He sensed that he was not alone. It was impossibly dark, even for him. The faint glow of candles at the end he'd just come from was getting fainter. Tears still running down his cheeks, he was startled when he bumped into a wall. Oh, no! Was this a dead end? The will to survive was overpowering his deep depression for the time being. He paced along the wall, feeling for a door. There was no door, but to his right was another passageway. The tunnel was T-shaped. Erik inhaled. To his left, the smell of smoke was coming in heavily and he was starting to cough. To the right, there was a smell of rain. He turned right and began to stumble more and more. His weakness was finally taking over.

When Erik could move no more, he slid down against the damp stone wall. It was cooler here, but it was very humid and condensation began to collect on his paled skin. His tears were beginning to dry because he was very thirsty and had no more moisture left in his body. He drew his knees up closer and buried his face in his hands, shaking with exhaustion.

"Erik," a misty voice said. Erik's head snapped up. Surely to God, he was hallucinating!

A pair of glowing green eyes was staring into his. He pulled away, but the creature followed him. It seemed to be floating because Erik could hear no footsteps.

"Who are you? What are you? Why can't you just leave me alone?!" Erik demanded.

The eyes blinked.

"I, Erik, am the one you impersonated. I am the Angel of Music."

Erik stared cynically at the emerald-colored glows. He heard a sound like someone snapping their fingers and the far end of the hallway closed off. Then, a blinding white light appeared in front of him. A strange figure that was both masculine and feminine stood in front of him at the same time. Its robes were long and flowing and Erik couldn't tell whether this being was male or female. It had flowing white hair, but appeared very young. He shielded his eyes for a moment until they'd adjusted. Two wings spread themselves ever so gently, giving the appearance that the being was breathing through them.

Erik couldn't believe it. A trembling hand reached towards one of the wings. They were made of soft feathers, but they were also a glistening silver that seemed to be made more of moonlight than feathers.

"You are in a great deal of trouble," the Angel told him, "you've got a lot of blood staining your hands."

Erik's gaze dropped to the floor.

"Do you wish me to save you?" the Angel asked.

Erik gave a barely perceptible nod.

"I will, but on one condition."

He knew there had to be a catch.

"You must go wherever I send you and do what I ask of you."

Erik was not used to being given commands, but someone had discovered the secret passageway and they were now trying to break apart the blocked entrance.

"Decide your fate, Monsieur, your time grows short."

It extended its ghostly white hand to Erik. The sound of clattering stones could be heard. In a panicked desperation, he grasped the hand, which seemed somehow too small. A white light filled his vision as he and the Angel disappeared.

They emerged into a shadowy gray realm. There seemed to be no beginning and no end.

"Now, in about ten seconds, you will wake up where you are supposed to be. Further instructions will be given upon arrival. I must warn you that I am sending you nearly two hundred years into the future, therefore things will be done much differently than they are today. Don't panic, however, because you will be doing what you do best. Here it comes!"

Erik had the sudden stomach-wrenching sensation of falling. He flailed his arms and legs, trying to get a grip of anything solid, but he didn't. Then, everything went black again.

When he woke again, he felt a strange sensation. He was laying on something soft. Cautiously, Erik sat up.

He was in the middle of a full-size bed adorned in black and red covers. The room's walls were painted gold and red. Black curtains decorated the windows.

As soon as he'd slid out of bed, he paused to look down. He had red plaid pajama pants and a white tank top on. On his bedside table, his white mask and a note were sitting. He put his mask on and read the note:

_Erik,_

_This house is yours as long as you follow my instructions. In your closet, you will find the appropriate clothing to fit in. The outfits to the right are for days you stay at home, the outfits on the left are for when you go to work. You have a teaching job at Roan's Academy as the new choir director and music teacher. You start at eight on Monday morning. Today is Saturday, which means that you have a couple of days to get used to your surroundings. This house is filled with everything you could possibly need. The school is within walking distance since you do not yet know how to drive a car. Your last name (since you originally did not have one to my knowledge) is Beaumont. I have left instructions on how to use everything in the house since you are not familiar with most of the items. I will only appear when you need me the most._

_A.M._

Erik had to reread the note several times. A teaching job?! He couldn't teach! They would all stare at his mask! Sighing, he began to fold the note, noticing a post-script that he'd missed on the back of the paper.

_P.S. Do not worry about your mask. The staff at Roan's Academy understands your reason for wearing it. They do not care so long as you can teach the students._

Erik's first instinct was to fall back onto the bed with a discontented sigh. He wished he could have slept longer, but curiosity was getting the better of him. He got up and went to the closet.

Button-down shirts and dress-pants in various shades of black, navy blue, and khaki filled the "work" side of the closet. Two pairs of dress shoes were on the floor beneath them. On the right side, T-shirts, sweatshirts, and jeans were hung. Under those were a pair of tennis shoes. He left all the clothes there for the time being and headed for the bathroom.

The bathroom wasn't small, but it wasn't big either. A tub and a shower put together dominated one wall. The curtain was a deep red. Inspection of the cabinets revealed modern-day toiletries such as deodorant, shaving cream, and soap. A simple black comb lay on the counter. Erik supposed that the best thing to do first was to get cleaned up.

When he'd done that, he combed his wet dark hair back in his signature style. Then, his stomach rumbled and he went down a small corridor and down the stairs.

The house was bright and cheerful unlike his underground lair. The floors and cabinets were oak wood and finished so that they were very glossy. The places that had carpet had either a muted gold or deep red color. At least whoever designed this place picked colors he liked.

The kitchen was huge compared to what he was used to. He opened up the various cabinet doors to see dishes and colorful packages of food. Finally, his eyes landed on a large bowl of fresh fruit on the table. Grabbing a handful of grapes, he continued exploring the house. The living room was a very grand-looking room with a nice fireplace. The porch had a couple of chairs and a hanging bench that swung back and forth. The backyard had a very nice rose garden with several different colors of rose and a fence up around it to keep trespassers out. Erik was duly impressed.

The feeling of the sun on his skin was almost alien. He'd gone out on the roof at the Opera House many times, but was almost always at night. He felt nearly naked with his arms and shoulders exposed. He went back into the house and got dressed in the more casual clothes. The T-shirt was a little more comfortable. He managed to figure out the toaster and was biting into slice when he came back outside. He sat down on the swinging bench to eat.

It was nice being outside. No one was trying to hunt him down, no one wanted to kill him (yet) and he wasn't hiding like a rabbit underground.

"Hello, son, you must be Erik," an elderly female voice said. Erik swallowed the last of his toast and looked up.

A pudgy old lady with tightly curled white hair had come up the small decorative path. She wore a pale blue dress and smelled like cookies. In fact, she was carrying a large plateful of them.

"Yes," Erik said cautiously.

"I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I make it a point to know my neighbors," she said, coming closer, "I live in that house right there."

She gestured to a small white house with neatly pruned shrubs in the front.

"Would you like a cookie?"

Despite his usual paranoia, Erik plucked one off the plate and bit into it. It was still warm from the oven; a luxury that he'd never had before. His eyes closed for a second, taking in the melting sweetness.

"My name is Margie."

He took her old, wrinkled hand in his. She had a very old, very wise, and very caring air about her. Despite his instincts not to trust anyone, Erik felt as though he could trust her.

"I hear you're the new music teacher at my granddaughter's school," Margie commented, "her name is Samantha. I think you'll find her quite a pleasure to work with. Hopefully, you can teach them all something. Kids these days don't know what real music is."

Right on cue, a car drove by with the windows down. A pounding bass beat rattled the air and the rapper's bellows made Erik clamp his hands over his ears.

"Please tell me that wasn't considered music," Erik begged her.

"I'm afraid so. That's why they need you so much," Margie laughed, "though I must wonder why you left several years of college education and music training to teach a bunch of bored teenagers."

There it was. That sinking feeling.

"Don't worry, son," Marge said, sliding another cookie into his hand, "if anyone can do it, you can. With your white mask, you look just like the Phantom of the Opera."

She took Erik's surprised expression out of context and he was grateful for it.

"Don't worry dear, from what I've heard, the girls very much like that old story. They might actually listen to you."

Old story? He wondered just how old... but Margie, fortunately, didn't catch the realization on his face.

"In my day, we learned good music and read good books if we got bored. We stayed outside and played all the time until it got dark. Kids these days won't read unless it's a text message on their blasted cellular phones and they spend all their time in front of televisions and computers. You'd be helping them in more ways than one, I assure you."

She looked into his hazel-green eyes with her blue ones.

"You have an old soul for being so young," she commented.

He wondered what she meant.

"Do you like iced-tea, Erik?"

He wasn't sure, but he was willing to try it.

"Why don't you come over for a little bit?"

He followed her.

For the next two hours, Margie entertained him with stories of her granddaughter and showed him what seemed like hundreds of photographs. The granddaughter, Samantha, had curly dark hair and the same bright blue eyes as her grandmother. Her potential beauty, however, was hidden behind thick glasses and baggy clothes. He found a lot of information out from Margie, such as the name of the town (Roan Hills), where the school was, where the stores were, and where the church was. He also learned a little about people's dispositions, which were a good idea to speak to and which to avoid. He also learned that this community was very tightly knit and everyone treated everyone else like family. It was late afternoon when Erik finally left Margie's house, head spinning with new information.

When he got back to his own house, another note was laying on the table.

_Erik,_

_Congratulations for making your first friend in Roan Hills. I must say I was very impressed. Treat Margie well; she is your most valuable source of information. She will also be your friend for life if you let her. _

_In case you didn't pick up on the hint, Samantha will be one of the girls that you are supposed to help. She has a very unique and special voice, but you must unlock her beauty. She has no confidence, only a few friends, and very bad stage fright. Keep that in mind and keep your temper in check and you can't go wrong._

_A.M._

_P.S. There is something special for you behind the door under the staircase. Your home wouldn't be home without one._

Erik walked over to said door. It was nearly hidden, for the shadows almost blotted out the detail. He opened it and couldn't suppress a small smile. A pipe organ, very much like the one he'd had in the opera house's basement, was there. A single window let the light in so that it shone on the music stand. He pressed a key down and a lovely sound emitted from the instrument. He stood there admiring it for a long time.

His heart still grieved for Christine, but at the same time, he was a little excited. This could be an adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm sad (sniff) because I have no reviews

A/N: I'm sad (sniff) because I have no reviews. But I will try to be a good authoress and keep going. Hopefully there is someone out there that might like this story. It's a modern retelling, yes, but…I've rather liked most of the modernized ones that I've read so far. Please review…it's the only thing that keeps my twisted mind turning.

Erik: I forgot just how clinically insane you are (clutches Punjab lasso nervously).

Me: Meh. I don't have any papers to prove it, hahahaha. Let's get on with the story.

Erik: Please tell me you didn't put any Phangirls in here!

Me: I didn't.

Erik: (breathes sigh of relief)

Me:…yet.

Chapter 2

After he'd examined every inch of his new home, Erik was exhausted. He'd lain down on the couch and fallen asleep. He didn't wake until late the next morning.

He was sure that yesterday's events had all been a bad dream. He would wake up in his swan bed safe and sound and nothing bad had yet transpired between he and Christine.

Opening his eyes and getting a look at the morning sun streaming in through the window told him different.

Not used to sleeping on couches, he stretched until he heard something pop. Then, he went into the kitchen. One of the drawers, he noticed, had different kinds of tea in them. He wasn't really hungry, so he just made himself a steaming mug of the tea.

_It's real,_ he thought, _I can't believe it's truly real._

Unable to deal with this evident truth, Erik went to his music room and began to play. As usual, he lost himself in the music. He closed his eyes, being transported to a world of fairy-tales where his face was normal and Christine's heart was his. When he emerged back into the real world, it was dark and Erik was shaking from hunger. He stuck to fruit, bread, and cheese, not recognizing most of the other stuff.

It was getting late and he knew that he needed to go to bed at a decent hour tonight. He was dreading tomorrow, but there was just no way around it. Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, he sighed.

"This is your life," he told his reflection, "get used to it."

Surprisingly, it didn't take him long to drop off to sleep.

He woke up the next morning shortly before the sun came up. Deciding to go with simplicity, he chose a pair of plain black pants and a white button-down shirt. After he'd eaten and put his mask on, he walked down the sidewalk.

This time of morning felt like a clean, new day. The air was cool and there was a slight breeze blowing. Dew sparkled on the neatly manicured grass like magic. The sun was still rising in the east, a bright hot orange against the cool azure in the sky. Pink, purple, and gold clouds surrounded the sun. It was worthy of a painting.

All around Erik, the world was beginning to wake. Children were coming outside with small packs strapped to their shoulders. Backpacks, the Angel had called them. Large yellow vehicles that read "School Bus" on their sides would pause and open its door for the child. At first, Erik was wondering how they knew where to go. Then, when he looked closer, he could see the adult driver through the glass. Most of the younger children had plenty of energy and ran around and played while they waited for their ride. The older children and teens looked quite dead in the face and were yawning or sipping at steaming cups of coffee. They were all headed in the same direction that Erik was going.

Roan Academy was a large brick building that was about three stories high. The younger children went in one door, the older children and teens went in the other. Instinctively, Erik went in that door. He seemed to be guided by an internal compass. Then, he came to the principal's office.

The principal was a friendly, middle-aged woman who had a no-nonsense air about her. She gave Erik his class roster (list of his students' names), a grade-book, and a lesson planner.

"You had explained to me in your last interview that you weren't terribly fond of computers, so I'll give you these until you get used to working with one," she explained, "just make sure that you don't take too long to get familiar with them. Everything runs on computers now."

Erik nodded. They came to a room at the end of the hallway that was particularly noisy.

"Why don't you let me go in first? Just to get their attention?" she suggested. Before he could say anything, she opened the door and barged in. Erik peered into the door behind her.

Things were about as close to chaos as one could get. The chairs were either knocked over or sitting askew. Shelves had been upended and there were books scattered all over the floor. The piano looked as though it had definitely seen better days and almost sagged with the amount of stuff on top. The mirror in the back of the room had a large crack in it.

The principal blew on what sounded like a police whistle. The rowdy teens stopped their noise and looked up, annoyed.

"Class, this is Mr. Erik Beaumont. He will be your new teacher. Give him your full attention."

She came back to the door where Erik stepped in and removed the whistle from around her neck. Placing it into his hand, she whispered, "Good luck. Check your chair each time you sit down and take this. You'll need it more than I do. Also, there's a bottle of aspirin in the left top desk drawer."

With that, she left.

Erik slowly made it to the front of the class. He could feel their eyes boring into him, trying to pierce him. Most of these student were female, although about a third of the class was male.

Great. Girls. Giggling, whispering, gossiping girls. He was tempted to shout to the heavens and ask the Angel why he'd been stuck here.

But he didn't. Instead, he examined the class roster. Most of the students had their picture next to their name, so it wasn't hard to spot most of them. He had to suppress a shudder when he saw a girl with a ring piercing in her nose.

"Hey, uh, Mister Beaumont!" someone called. Erik looked up to see a blonde boy with shaggy hair leaning his chair back.

"We was all wondering, why you got that freaky mask on?"

A few snickers rippled through the classroom.

"That," Erik replied curtly, "is none of your business."

He silenced the class with a steely glance.

"Now that I have taken attendance, I want to know why this room is in such a disastrous state," Erik said, folding his arms over his chest.

"We're students, not maids," a thin blonde-haired girl piped up.

"Maybe not," Erik said, "but I want this room put back in order."

No one moved.

"Now," he growled.

There were irritated sighs and scraping sounds as everyone rearranged the chairs and put everything back. Within seconds, the room was acceptable, at least. There were mutterings about how "bogus" this was and how Erik was "psycho". His acute hearing picked up on it almost immediately.

_They're probably going to think I'm worse than that by the time I'm through with them, _Erik thought.

"Sir, you wouldn't happen to be French, would you? I would know that accent anywhere," a red-haired girl purred.

Oh, great. One of those.

"Paris," Erik mumbled. Her face glowed almost as brightly red as her hair. He ignored it and stared the class down again. When they finally stopped muttering, Erik stepped forward from behind the music stand that was holding his books and papers. He noticed a chalkboard a few feet behind him that was covered in doodles. He erased all the drawings and sketched a treble clef, a bass clef, a quarter note, a half note, and an eighth note.

"Does anyone recognize these?" he asked.

Not a single hand raised. Their expressions went blank.

He wasn't surprised.

"Has any of you had experience with music training at all?"

Two girls raised their hand. One of them was a blonde girl who was so thin that she looked like a living skeleton wrapped in brightly colored cloth. The other was a dark-haired girl with so much makeup on that Erik wondered if any real skin existed beneath it.

"How much?"

"Well, I took, like, voice lessons for two years," the blonde girl said, "but then my teacher moved."

"I've been tutored privately since I was seven," the dark-haired girl said, sounding like a rich snob's daughter, "and I'm the best there is in this school."

The other girls were looking daggers at her.

"We will see," Erik said, implying that she was in for a challenge.

"What was the last piece that you all worked on?"

Everyone started to sing as obnoxiously and loudly as they could. Most of them were horrifically out of key and a few were so high up in the rafters that it hurt Erik's ears.

"ENOUGH!"

Everyone's mouths clamped closed, surprised at the hardness that his voice could carry.

"Oh, and you think you could do better?" someone asked.

Without any further provocation, Erik sang a few bars of "Music of the Night". Numerous mouths fell open, especially when he sang the word "soar". When he was done, they were paying a little bit more attention. Some of the more cynical ones were still glaring at him.

"The first thing I am going to do is reassign all of your voice parts."

With that, he went through the students one by one and played scales on the piano. As soon as they sounded like they were straining or they squeaked, he would stop. The clump of chairs in the middle of the room was split into four different sections for soprano, alto, tenor, and bass.

"Why do we have to move?" one boy lamented, seeing his girlfriend clear on the other side of the room.

"You cannot stay consistent with your part if you are hearing someone else's," Erik explained, "you will stray."

"Stray? You talk like we're all a bunch of dogs!" a girl snapped.

Erik was ready for that one.

"Until you stop howling the way you are now, you will be treated like dogs on a leash," Erik retorted. A bunch of "ooohs" rose up from the room as the offended girl slumped back into her chair.

"Tomorrow, we will-"

Erik never got to finish his sentence. The students made a mad dash towards the door.

Oh, good God. He had five more hours of this, all with different students. Erik fished around in the drawer for the promised aspirin. Common sense was the only thing keeping him from swallowing an entire mouthful.

The second period was absolutely no better than the first. He got more questions about his mask, more insults, more protests, and more whining. Same thing with the third class and the fourth.

By the time he made it to lunchtime, Erik was definitely ready to pack it in and call it a day.

"Problems?"

Erik whipped around in his now empty classroom to see none other than the Angel itself.

"They know nothing," Erik lamented, "they whine like puppies every single time I tell them to do something."

The Angel laughed.

"They're teenagers, what do you expect? They'll get over it sooner or later."

"I'd rather take my chances with the mob," Erik spat.

The Angel chuckled again.

"By this time, I believe you," it said, grinning impishly, "but that's half the fun. Your first challenge is finding a way to get through to them. Ordering your way around will only get you so far in this world. You have to make them connect to you."

Erik sighed.

"How do I do that?"

"That, my friend, is up to you."

The Angel disappeared.

Erik retrieved the lunch he'd packed for himself and shoveled the food in mechanically. If the mob hadn't killed him, these ridiculous teenagers surely would.

The same abomination happened fifth and sixth period. By the time Erik got home, he was quite worn out.

As he stretched out in his bed that night, a nasty little voice in the back of his head said "This is only the beginning."

Erik had nightmares almost all night.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: All right! I'm getting reviews! I'm psyched about this!I want to thank you all for them. Most of you said some very nice things that made me smile. I hope you continue to stay with me. hugs

Erik: I can't believe you have me in a teaching job. I WILL get you for this!

Me: Chill. You know you like it.

Erik: Grrrrrrrr.

Me: Anyway...here it is, chapter 3.

Chapter 3

The next morning involved lamenting about Christine, trying a pastry that came in a foil wrapper that said "Pop-Tart" on the side, wondering what kind of nonsense he would deal with today, and taking a shower. Today, he was feeling very on-edge and with very good reason. When he opened the door, he jerked backwards just as a barrage of water balloons came pelting down. The occupants of the classroom were laughing, but not for long. When Eric came in, completely dry and unscathed, they seemed rather disappointed.

"I must say, that was a good try," Erik said in a dangerously calm voice, "but I would not attempt it again."

He also refrained from sitting down in his chair. The slight shininess of the seat told him that it had also been tampered with.

"Let me get a few things straight with all of you," Erik continued, walking towards the students, "this is MY classroom. When you are in here, you will work by my rules. Until you have proven to me that you are mature enough to make the decisions, I make them all. I am not an easy teacher and I've been told that I have a terrible temper. If you have no desire to learn to sing, I suggest you remove yourself this instant."

Three or four boys got up and ran to the door. Two girls followed. Then three more. The rest that were there were giving him nervous looks.

"The rules are very simple," he continued, "all of you either do what you're told with the best of your efforts or I will fail you. I have no remorse for those that won't try. I guarantee you all that I am much more stubborn than you are."

One more girl left.

There. Now he'd weeded out the ones that didn't care.

"I will start by teaching you how to read music."

He passed out sheet music that he'd uncovered in the storage room. First, they had to learn the rhythms. Then, they started on pitches. Despite their unwillingness to try, the class actually picked it up very well. When they left, they were whispering again, but these whispers weren't the same condescending ones he'd been hearing. Good, he'd scared them a little.

Quickly, before anyone else entered the room, Erik grabbed a paper towel and wiped his chair off. Sure enough, the little urchins had coated it in black paint. If he'd sat down, his whole backside would have been coated with it when he got up. Whew, that was close!

Every class that came in got the same warning. By the end of the day, Erik had gotten rid of a total of thirty students. The principal was not at all happy.

"Mr. Beaumont, may I have a word with you?" she asked as Eric straightened things up in his office. He paused to look up at her.

"Several of your students have been coming to my office and complaining about you," she said, sounding worried, "what's been going on?"

"I simply told them that if they did not want to learn how to sing that they had no business being in my class," Erik said dismissively.

She considered for a moment.

"I can't really say I blame you. The last teacher we had was rather lax. I just hope you can whip them back into shape. Last year's choir concert was a complete disaster as well as the competitions we entered in. Dead last in all of them."

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"It's not that they can't sing," she explained, "it's that no one really cares what they're good at. Teenagers are very difficult to motivate."

A plan was knitting together in Erik's brain.

"I _will_ find a way," he told her.

The next morning, there were no water balloons and no other kinds of traps. Erik was beginning to wonder if they'd really given up that easily.

Sounding bored and tired, they shuffled in only to gasp as the lights were turned off. Using his talent of throwing his voice, Erik began to sing as he had once done with Christine:

"Insolent boy!

This slave of fashion!

Basking in your glory!

Ignorant fool,

this brave young suitor

sharing in my triumph!"

There was a stunned silence. Then, a girl's voice cautiously began to sing.

"Angel, I hear you,

speak I listen,

stay by my side, guide me!"

The other girls began to join in. Apparently, this song had survived the era of the opera house.

"Angel, my soul

was weak, forgive me,

enter at last, master!"

They had a very interesting harmony going on the word "master". Erik was grinning in the dark where they couldn't see it. Then, the boys sang with him.

"Flattering child, you shall know me,

see why in shadow I hide,

look at your face in the mirror,

I am there inside!"

Then, everyone joined in to create a unique harmony.

"Angel of music,

hide no longer,

come to me,

strange angel!"

Eric flicked the lights back on. He struggled to keep from laughing; everyone's faces had gone white.

"Now that I have your attention," Erik said, feeling quite pleased with himself, "I have a solution to fit all of our needs. Are you ready to negotiate?"

They looked at each other, then at him. He saw heads nodding up and down.

"We will continue with sight reading Monday through Thursday," he said, leaning against the desk, "but on Fridays, you may bring in your own music. If it's not an assault on my ears, I may permit you all to perform it in a concert."

Whispers ensued.

"Do we have a deal?" Erik asked.

They mumbled their assent.

The rest of the day, he worked out negotiations with his other classes. Tuesday was still rough, but it hadn't been a complete disaster.

Wednesday went rather smoothly. No one tried to disrupt the class. No one asked to go to the bathroom, get a drink, or anything else. When they allowed their bored facade to drop, he could tell that they were actually trying.

"Everyone sit up straight," he reminded them, "you cannot breathe correctly when your body is bent in half."

They did. Automatically, more sound came out. Erik allowed himself to relax just the tiniest bit. He went around correcting people's postures individually. He still had to remind them of which notes they were starting on, but they wouldn't get good at this for at least another month. They were getting the rhythms rather quickly, however. He had to give them credit for that.

On Thursday, Erik was scribbling something down in one of his books when a brunette girl in a blue T-shirt shyly approached the desk.

"Uhh...sir...Mr. Beaumont... all of us were kind of wondering...," she paused, getting a little bit worried about his reaction, "well, we had so much fun doing the mirror song the other day that we were wondering if we could do some more Phantom of the Opera songs."

Luckily by this time, Erik had purchased what was called a "DVD" and watched his story played out on TV by actors. He ignored the pang in his heart.

"I'll think about it," he mumbled, noting that it was too early for her to be in here. Class didn't start until eight and it was fifteen too early. She left her backpack on her chair.

Suddenly, Erik's head snapped up. He knew those eyes...where had he seen those eyes...? Then, it came back to him. Margie. Maybe this was the girl Margie had been telling him about.

She'd trembled like she had been afraid of him, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Once again, the alarm clock rang too soon. Erik smacked at it until his fingers finally found their target. He remembered it was Friday and cringed inwardly. He was about to find out what kind of music his students liked and most of it would probably be scary. Oh, well. He had made a promise and he never went back on his promises. After a cup of hot tea and a steaming bowl of oatmeal, he ventured towards the school.

His students, shockingly, were all already there for first period.

"Who are you and what have you done with my class?" he asked, giving them a suspicious look. They chuckled a little.

"We remembered!" the skinny blonde girl called, waving a CD in the air. Some of them had CD's, some of them had iPods, and some had MP3 players. Erik had no idea how all of these gadgets worked, so he decided to let them do it.

"Wonderful," Erik said, sarcasm dripping off of the word, "someone start it."

He got out a clipboard and drew a line down the center. The first column had songs that Erik either didn't mind or actually liked, the other column held songs that he never wanted to hear again. If he didn't like the song, he would demand that they stop it after the first thirty seconds or so. A majority of the students were disappointed, but a few of them actually looked relieved. Some of them actually looked surprised at some of his choices.

This went on all day. He paid particular attention to Samantha's selection. It was by an artist called "Madonna." He made a mental note of it for later.

"I see you're still alive even after listening to that crazy music," one of the other teachers commented, "you must either be really brave or feeling suicidal."

Erik wasn't amused in the slightest.

"Patrick Jones. Math teacher. Most hated guy in school," the man said, extending his hand. Erik shook it, but let go immediately after.

"Everybody hates math. I would give anything to be in your shoes," Jones said, "at least the kids have an interest for your class, even if they think you're really weird."

Erik was losing his patience.

"I need to go. I'm very busy," he said, voice clipped, announcing that this conversation was over. Jones let him walk away.

In truth, Erik was just going home to get something to eat when he noticed a collection of his students sitting on the curb with their lunchboxes.

"Yo, Mr. Beaumont!" one of them called, waving Erik over.

Erik humored him and came closer.

"We was just wondering if we could go in the choir room at lunchtime."

"Why?"

"We got a band. Mom's tired of us being in the garage all the time."

Erik thought that over for a second.

"I will think about it."

As he walked away, he could hear them whispering.

"Dude thinks he's Phantom of the Opera. Look at that mask!"

"Shut up, man. He'll hear us."

"What's the big deal? So, he has a mask. So he's a little eccentric. You think that everything different is not worth giving a chance."

Erik turned his head ever so slightly to see none other than Samantha coming to his defense. Erik continued down the sidewalk, grateful.

He sat outside at one of the picnic tables by himself. He was halfway through lunch when a timid voice reached his ears.

"Can...can I sit here?"

He looked up to see Samantha. He gestured to the bench and she sat across from him.

"You know, not everyone thinks you're strange," she blurted out before she realized she'd said it. Her face flushed brightly. Erik pretended he hadn't heard it.

"I thought the Mirror song was really cool. You made us all sing without even trying. You sound just like the Phantom from the movie," she commented.

"Thank you," Erik muttered.

She bit into her own sandwich.

"I know how hard it is to be the odd one out in the new neighborhood," she said sadly.

It was then that Erik noticed her scarred wrists.

"What happened there?" he asked.

Her blue eyes iced over and she pulled her arms closer to her body.

"Just an accident," she stammered, "it's a long story."

Erik didn't believe her, but he didn't press the subject. He watched as she tossed her lunch, only half-eaten, into the garbage can and walked off.

Two boys came over next.

"Hey, Mr. Beaumont. Got a minute?"

Erik had to nod since he was in the process of chewing.

"The water balloons were our fault. How much trouble are we in?"

He looked at one, then the other. Yes, these two had been troublesome. He'd guessed it had been them, but no solid proof was there.

"Why do you _want_ to be in trouble?" he asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

The first boy rolled his dark eyes.

"Because we have dates coming up and we want to just get detention over with."

Erik folded his arms. He saw a flicker of fear beneath their arrogance.

"Come to the music room after school. I am sure I can find something for you to do."

They both slunk away like skulking alley cats. He wondered why they'd confessed in the first place.

The bell rang. It was time to go inside. As he walked down the hallways, he could feel them watching him. He was still the enigma he'd always been, just in a different place and a different time. People actually got out of his way as he walked down the hallway with the same confident steps he'd taken the night of the masquerade.

When the two boys showed up, Erik put them in charge of going through the very cluttered storage room. The music books that were in good shape would go on the bookshelf in alphabetical order and the ones that were falling apart would go in one of the recycle bins that the FFA had put out. He heard them muttering about what a mess it was in there, but at least they weren't cursing about him.

It took them a good couple of hours to finish up. Erik was absently playing the piano, letting his thoughts wander about while what he played reflected what he was thinking. Finally, he heard the two words he'd been longing to hear: "We're done!"

"We got everything out of there except the stage props, but what do you want us to do with this?" one of them asked, holding up a dusty black case. Erik flipped open the case.

"It will stay here," he said, staring down inside, "you may leave now."

Without hesitating, both boys ran out.

What he was looking at was the most beautiful violin he'd ever seen. It was badly in need of tuning, but Erik soon had it fixed. When he drew the bow across the strings, the most delightful sound came out. Unknown to Erik, he had a condition known as "synesthesia", a crossing of one's senses. Everytime Erik heard music, he saw colors in his head. This violin's notes were pure gold.

He took it home with him, polished it up, worked on the bow, and got it back to perfect shape by the time the sun set. Finally having figured out the electric stove, he cooked himself a decent dinner.

Despite his endless aggravation with his students, he had to admit that some of the things they did and said were funny. He was beginning to see their individual personalities and remembering their names. The skinny blonde girl was named Ashley. Her father was rich, so she was head of the popular clique. The blonde boy was named Brad. He was very lazy, but he had amazing guitar abilities (or so Erik was told). His best friend was Keith, an African American boy who was always his partner in crime. There was Samantha, who had no confidence, but very obviously had a gift. There was Victoria, nicknamed Vicky, who wore black clothes and had piercings and tattoos everywhere but sang like an angel. There was Steve, who had even less confidence than Samantha because of his heaviness and thick glasses. He had a reputation as a "geek". From what Erik understood, "geek" meant "unpopular, but smart". He was still trying to learn the rest of their names.

For the first time that night, Erik did not dream of Christine, angry mobs, or burning opera houses.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yay

A/N: Yay! Erik survived his first week of teaching! We're all so proud of him, no doubt! I'm doing updates faster than a speed addict drinking coffee! I hope you guys enjoy it since my updates were so slow during my last story. As usual, in case you didn't figure it out, I don't own Erik, but I own the other original modern-day characters and students. Have a good read and gimme more reviews.

Erik: I still can't believe I'm a teacher. (gives The Look)

Me: Ah, you'll get used to it. Our Phan-base absolutely loves it. Here you go, Erik, your first weekend:

Chapter 4

At first, Erik woke up in a rush. He thought he'd slept in, but then he remembered that it was Saturday. It was too late to go back to sleep, however. He was too wide awake.

He realized that he'd survived his first week of teaching without any major incidents. Relief filled him for the time being. Perhaps they weren't as difficult as some of the other teachers said they were.

He'd told all of his students before they'd left class on Friday to bring a song of their choice on Monday and sing it. His intentions were to get to know their strengths and weaknesses a little better. It would be much easier than throwing a hissy fit at the group for one person's mistakes when they might not understand what they were doing wrong.

But today, he would relax.

The first thing he did was cook himself a big breakfast. He'd known how to cook back at the opera house, but the technology here made it so much faster and easier. Within seconds, he had a giant omelet that nearly covered his whole plate. After devouring it and washing the dishes, he took his violin outside on the porch. He'd hated being above ground at the Opera Populaire, but here, he was actually getting comfortable with it. The September mornings were pleasantly cool. The leaves were just beginning to turn colors and the sky was a softer shade of blue. And he was growing attached to the porch swing. He sat down, then turned sideways and stretched his legs out on the length of the bench. Then, he swayed back and forth a little to make it move. Then, he began to play. The clear, bright notes flowed over the soft morning breeze, the grass sparkling with rainbow droplets of dew, and the trees.

"My, that's beautiful," Marge commented. Erik looked up. He'd known someone was coming, but he'd been too preoccupied with his playing to really care.

"Thank you," he said, genuinely grateful.

"I take it you've met my granddaughter?"

He nodded, continuing to play, just not as loud.

"She talks about you an awful lot. She's quite impressed with you," Marge said.

Right on cue, they both heard someone shout, "Grandma! Where are you!"

Samantha emerged from behind a rosebush.

"Mr. Beaumont! I didn't realize you and Grandma were neighbors!" she exclaimed.

"She comes and visits me on the weekends," Marge explained, "she gets more peace and quiet over here."

Marge stopped talking when Samantha gave her a warning look.

"Mom doesn't like me to practice my singing in the house," Samantha sighed, "she doesn't think I can sing. I came over here so that I could practice for Monday."

Erik heard the shadow in her voice when she spoke of her mother. It reminded him of the same shadow he always had when he spoke of his own mother.

"I cannot tell if you sing well or not," Erik admitted, "you scarcely even open your mouth."

Samantha flushed brightly. Marge grinned.

"I told you, honey! Why don't you sing that pretty little song that you were singing last night?"

She shook her head, her face reddening more.

"Well go ahead! You can do it!" Marge encouraged her. Samantha took a deep breath.

"Promise not to laugh or yell at me?" she asked Erik nervously.

"I promise."

At first, all that came out was a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again.

_"Take time to realize_

_that you warmth is crashing down on in._

_Take time to realize_

_that I am on your side,_

_didn't I, didn't I tell you?_

_But I can't spell it out for you,_

_no it's never gonna be that simple_

_no I can't spell it out for you..._

_If you'd just realize what I just realized_

_then we'd be perfect for each other_

_and never find another,_

_just realize what I just realized,_

_then we'd never have to wonder_

_if we missed out on each other now."_

Erik was impressed. She needed to be much louder, but she had a good voice.

"How bad was it?" she asked, looking as though she might pass out.

"It wasn't though you need to be louder." Erik told her. Her face was so red now that it almost looked purple.

"Coming from you, that's a very big compliment," she said, grinning. Her gaze did not meet his; she was staring at the boards on the porch.

"Are you as tough as they've been saying?" Margie asked.

"I am," Erik said, lifting his bow again and playing very quietly, "I do not believe in half-trying and wasted efforts. The last student I taught was pushed to her very limits because I knew how much talent she had."

"Who was she? Why did you move to a place like this?" Samantha asked, suddenly emboldened. Erik's face twitched a little as he struggled to control his emotions. The mask of indifference suddenly fell into place.

"I had been teaching her since she was a little girl. She grew older, forgot our friendship, became somewhat self-absorbed, and somehow became frightened of me because she thought I was being too harsh on her. She began to call me a monster among other things. I was chased away because everyone else believed her. So I moved here where no one would know who I was. The world seems to have forgotten, thank God."

"Wow. I'm sorry to hear about that," Samantha said, really meaning it. Erik despised the pity in her voice.

"Well, don't you worry about them anymore," Marge said affectionately as though he were her son, "we'll take good care of you. Would you play something else for us?"

As the music flowed out of Erik's violin, both of them stood entranced. Erik half-smiled, realizing the effect he still had on people. He was relieved to see that it was still there. When the song was over, it took them both some time to snap out of the spell he'd cast on them.

"We're going into town," Margie commented, "would you like to go?"

Under any other circumstances, Erik would have declined. But the look in Samantha's eyes, one of genuine happiness, drew him in.

"Yes."

It took Erik some time to get used to the movement of the car. At first, it made his stomach clench and his muscles tense. Slowly, he relaxed. Margie drove and Samantha pointed out the different shops, what they sold there, and whether or not they were expensive. She also pointed to restaurants and told Erik whether or not the food was good. She also pointed out various people and where they lived and what they were like. Some of the students from his class recognized her and waved.

Then, he saw someone that made his heart nearly stop beating.

She was slender with long chocolate curls. When she turned, she had big, dark eyes and fair skin. She looked just like Christine. She was wearing a pink sundress with a white knit sweater wrapped around her shoulders. And she was laughing at something another woman told her.

"Who is that?" Erik asked, pointing to her.

"Oh, her? That's Christina Bunn. She's the art teacher. Somebody told me she used to teach dance, too, before the school cut the dance program. Her room's right next to yours."

Christina. Christine. Their names were so close together that it almost made him crazy.

Oh, no...

He recognized that sinking feeling in his stomach and gave himself a mental slap in the face. That woman was not Christine. She was a few years older than Christine was, which put her almost his age. Hmmm.

"Want to meet her?" Samantha asked. Without waiting on a response from Erik, Samantha rolled down the window and called to her as Margie parked the car. She came closer, chocolate curls bouncing a little whenever she took a step.

"Hi, Samantha! Gorgeous day to be out, isn't it?"

Erik noticed that she had a tattered sketchbook in her hand.

"Have you met Mr. Beaumont yet?"

Samantha quickly got out and opened Erik's door. Erik was still in shock. Christina leaned over to get a better look at him.

"So, you're the elusive Mr. Beaumont. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Christina Bunn, your classroom next-door-neighbor."

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Why don't we all go inside? Christina, you really should eat more, dear, you're thin as a rail!" Margie fussed.

"Don't worry about me, Margie. I just tend to lose track of time, that's all."

She opened her sketchbook to show them all.

"I just did this one this morning. I could definitely use a break."

The detail was amazing. She'd drawn children on some playground equipment, their poses so realistic that Erik could imagine what they looked like when they were actually moving.

"That's very good," Eric commented.

"Mr. Beaumont plays the violin," Samantha announced, "and piano."

Now, it was Christina's turn to be impressed.

"I've never known anyone that could play violin," she commented, "I'll have to swing by the classroom and listen to you sometime."

Erik's stomach was fluttering when they went inside. He declined lunch since he was still full from breakfast. Christina had no trouble polishing off a rather large plate of spaghetti with meatballs, two breadsticks, a little bit of salad, and a slice of double-chocolate cake. One thing was for certain, she had a good appetite. Samantha just ate a salad, even though her grandmother begged her to eat more.

"Honey, please eat something besides salad. They've got lasagna, remember, that used to be your favorite?"

"I'd rather not," Samantha said flatly.

"Why ever not?" Margie pushed.

Erik had a bad feeling about this.

"Because, I'm tired of being fat, okay?"

Uh-oh.

"Honey, you're not fat. You're skin and bones. You just hide under those baggy clothes of yours."

Christine looked up at Erik and silently pleaded him to change the subject before this disagreement went any further.

"Are you singing the same song on Monday?" Erik interrupted just as Samantha's expression soured. She was itching for a fight and he could see it. Instead, her expression changed to nervousness.

"I don't know. Do I have to sing in front of everybody?"

"That is the only way to get used to performing," Erik confirmed.

"Then no. I won't sing in front of everyone."

Margie was about to say something else, but Erik silenced her with a look.

"Why?" Erik asked, sounding nonchalant.

"Because I hate being in front of people. That's why."

She pushed a meatball to the side of her plate that Margie had placed there.

"Pretend they aren't there," Erik suggested, "pretend you're standing on my porch again."

She looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.

"I'll try," she mumbled.

"That's all I ask," Erik said, his voice uncharacteristically warm.

"Can we go shopping yet?" Samantha's tone begged for a change in subjects. Margie looked from her to Erik.

"I'd be happy to take you, but I'm not sure that Mr. Beaumont would care for all that girly stuff," she said, a hint of humor in her voice.

"I can take Erik to the music store," Christina offered, "it's just a couple of stores down."

Music store? Erik was definitely willing to investigate it.

"Erik, would it be all right if we caught up with you and Christina in a couple of hours?" she asked. Erik shrugged. They paid for their food and left.

"Poor Samantha," Christina said, watching them walk away, "she's got problems."

"What kind?" Erik asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Her mother's an alcoholic. Her father's a druggie. She's been in and out of rehab centers for everything from anorexia to cutting. The day you saw her cuts, she came to me afterwards and was crying."

"I didn't know," Erik admitted, "she told me that they were accidents."

"Samantha's been one of my students for a long time," Christina explained, "I teach an art camp during the summertime for younger children and she started coming to that when she was three or four. She always showed up with bruises, but I just assumed she got them from climbing trees and falling off of things. It wasn't until later that she started confiding in me that her father beats her."

Erik frowned.

"Isn't there something that can be done about it?"

"We've tried. I've even told her that I'd adopt her," Christina said, "but she always goes back to her parents. They cry, they beg, they tell her they love her, then they go right back to their old ways. She's nearly killed herself three times already. The only thing that stops her is because I've made her promise not to after the last time."

Erik felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy for the girl.

"She hasn't been happy for the longest time," Christine continued, "but when you came here, something in her changed. Everytime she comes to my class, I have her right after you do, by the way, she smiles. She says its because even though you're very strict, you care what you're doing."

Erik was so surprised that he wasn't watching where he was going and would have walked straight into a light pole if Christine hadn't dragged him around it. Slightly embarrassed, he pretended it didn't happen.

"Just remember to be careful with her," Christine said as they approached the front of the music store, "she's got a fragile spirit right now. Hopefully, you can make her forget her pain, at least for a little while."

The music store almost overwhelmed Erik. Shelves of sheet music and music books lined one wall. There were electric keyboards, guitars, stringed instruments, wind instruments, percussion...Another wall was lined with CD's, tapes, recording equipment, and other things.

"Just like a kid in a candy store," Christine teased, "I knew you'd like it here."

He noticed that some of the modern songs that the students liked had been made into sheet music. By the time they left, Erik had acquired a large stack of music books and "karaoke" CD's.

"They're going to be thrilled with you," Christina laughed as he staggered under the weight of all the purchases.

The sun was beginning to go down when they finally caught up with Samantha and Margie. They, too, were laden down with bags. It was a slight struggle to fit everything and everyone in the car, but they did. They dropped Christina off at her house before returning to theirs.

Yes, it had been a very good day. Erik was surprised that no one had said anything rude about his mask or even asked about it. He'd gotten a few questioning looks, but no one had really made a big deal out of it.

He realized that, on that particular day, he didn't miss Paris at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N: I'm absolutely thrilled with the reviews. Keep 'em coming, please! In this chapter, we have some bonding going on. I hope you guys like it because this was a difficult chapter to write: I had to start over two or three times before it looked good enough to stick on here.

Erik: (sighs) I came back a second time. Now look what she's done. (muttering to himself) Erik, you should have learned that being a muse isn't the most ideal job at times.

Me: Yeah, but you're going to-"

Erik: Don't give it away! It's their job to read the chapter. (sighs again).

Me: All right, all right. I hope you guys like this one.

I just wanted also to say that the song in the previous chapter is "Realize" by Colbie Calliat (spelling?) in case you were wondering. I don't own Erik, but I do own my other characters.

Chapter 5

After a weekend of experimenting with music and resting, Erik woke up feeling very refreshed on Monday morning. His stomach still twisted awkwardly as he walked towards the school, but he didn't completely dread going in. Under his arm, he carried a large plastic box that held sheet music and karaoke CD's.

The questions began as the students began coming in. They noticed the box on the table and Erik saw the inquisitive looks. It took them until Erik was done taking attendance to finally start asking.

"Mr. Beaumont, what's in that box?" someone finally inquired.

An amused expression crossed his face.

"Why don't you look?" he asked.

They exchanged curious looks with each other. Was it some sort of trick?

"Samantha," Erik finally suggested, "why don't you open the box?"

Blushing the way she always did when ANYONE paid attention to her, she came to the front and pried the lid off. Her squeal of delight caused the other students move like a tidal wave. They descended on the box, taking things out and exclaiming over the contents.

"You got all this stuff for us?" Keith asked. Erik didn't move, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

It was the first time Erik had ever heard anyone say "thank you" to him. It made him feel special, a feeling he'd never had until now.

"Now," Erik said as the exclamations waned, "it is time to get your own songs. Which one of you will go first?"

Brad went first. He had a very friendly baritone voice. Erik asked him to stand up straighter. He did and his voice became richer as more air went into his lungs. The class clapped for him. Erik acknowledged him with a nod, then put the next song into the CD player.

When it was Samantha's turn, she was looking decidedly ill, but he had asked her to try and she'd promised she would. When she sang, she looked straight at him, trying very hard to pretend that the other students weren't there. Her voice shook at first, but it came out stronger as she continued and gained some confidence. When she was done, thunderous applause filled the room.

For the first time since the students had seen him, Erik smiled.

Whispers filled the room. No one had actually gotten a smile from Erik.

"You have a gift, Samantha. You simply need to open your mouth more so that everyone else can hear," he told her.

He'd seen the daydream in her eyes. For a second, she forgot about her Hellish home life, the scars on her wrists, and her distorted body image. She knew that she was good at something.

The class was applauding her. Shyly staring at the floor, Samantha returned to her chair.

After class was over, she waited until everyone else was gone, then came to Erik's desk. He was pretending to be busy so that she wouldn't run off again.

"Mr. Beaumont?"

He raised his head.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She looked like she wanted to say something, but hesitated. He didn't stare her down the way he would someone else. Instead, he continued to rearrange the papers that had accumulated on his desk.

"I'm sorry about that one day," she finally said, "I shouldn't have gotten mad. The truth is, everyone would jump down my throat if they knew why I had cuts all over my wrists. I've almost been committed twice because of it. People won't leave me alone about it."

He wasn't sure what to tell her, so he didn't say anything.

"You, Grandma, and Christina are the only ones who know I still do it. Can you promise me that you won't tell?"

Erik considered that for a moment. He didn't want to be the cause of Samantha's death, but he didn't want to betray her the way the world had betrayed him.

"I won't tell on one condition."

Samantha rolled her eyes.

"Here we go again," she snapped angrily, "you're going to tell me to get 'help'. The only problem is that nobody wants to help me. They want to take my parents' money and get me in more trouble!"

Erik cut her off with one of his famous Looks. She closed her mouth, but she was still seething.

"That wasn't what I was going to say," he continued, "I was going to ask that you stop hurting yourself, or at least try. And if your family situation is so destructive, you need to leave."

"But," Samantha's eyes filled with tears, "I love them."

Erik crossed his arms over his chest.

"I loved my mother and father once, also," he said, his voice hardening, "but it wasn't enough. They wanted a perfect son. Instead, they got me. Before they even pinned my first cloth diaper on, they put a mask over my face. When I was old enough, I was sold to a band of gypsies."

Samantha's tears overflowed and she sniffed.

"That's terrible," she choked out.

Erik gave her some tissue and she wiped her face.

"I had hoped to never see someone else go through what I went through," Erik said, bitterness in his voice, "but I see that you have. Sometimes loving someone just isn't enough. You have someone; you have Christina. Go with her before its too late."

Samantha's tears stopped coming. She placed her hands on her hips.

"She told you, didn't she? Is nothing a secret in this dead-end town?!"

She stomped out and slammed the door behind her. Erik sighed, a strange pain in his soul. He wondered why he even cared what happened to Samantha.

"You care because it's your job to care," a familiar voice said. Erik turned to see the Angel.

"Why must you torture me? You knew she was suicidal, didn't you?!" he growled.

"Of course I did. That's why you're here." The Angel was leaning against the desk very casually.

"I don't understand!" Erik roared in frustration.

"You should," the Angel said, sounding almost bored, "you just gave her advice. You opened up to her. She opened up to you. You were at the right place at the right time. Don't try to make everything so complicated."

Ordinarily, Erik would have pounced on the offending creature. Instead, he frowned and glanced at the door.

"Is there nothing I can do for her?"

The angel grinned.

"Now you're thinking like a teacher. I'm impressed, Erik. You've come a long way in a short amount of time. But right now, you can't. She has to come to you and Christina.

With that, the Angel disappeared and the students came in for the next class. Erik was trying his hardest to focus on what he was doing, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Samantha.

As he was locking up the classroom, he saw Christina come running down the hallway towards him.

"Erik! Have you seen Samantha?"

"Not since this morning," Erik admitted.

"Her parents just called. They're furious. They said something about you and a mask and Samantha running away."

Erik's mind was about to go into a panic when they saw Samantha outside. She was holding a suitcase in her hand and was about to cross the road. Erik and Christina came outside and were going to welcome her with open arms when Erik saw a horrific event about to unfold.

The other teenagers were hanging out around the picnic tables and eating. They were oblivious. It was strange how it felt like the world had stopped turning and Erik was the only one moving. His keen reflexes and years of running had given him grace and speed beyond belief.

Erik leapt over a picnic table and pounced on Samantha just as a van approached the spot she'd been in a second earlier. The result was that the van slammed into his side. Erik was thrown several feet away. His head smacked against the pavement and his mask came off. He didn't see where it went.

By now, everyone's attention had turned to the impending disaster because of Christina's hysterical screams.

_Oh, no_ Erik thought before everything went black.

"Oh, my God!" Samantha breathed. Blood smeared the front of the van. She realized two horrific things at one time: first, that the crumpled body on the ground could have easily been her and second was discovering why Erik had the mask.

From what he said, she'd guessed that he'd had this problem since birth, but what it truly looked like was that he'd been badly burned on the right side of his face. The skin was so thin on the upper two thirds of the right side that it was nearly transparent. His features had been warped and distorted from his hairline to his upper lip, causing deep ridges and bumps. His cheekbone stuck out so sharply that it looked as though it would tear through the skin at any second. During his tumble, a gash had been etched in his cheek.

"Mr. Beaumont! Please wake up," she pleaded, running her hand over his damaged side, "please! I'm sorry! I'd do anything to take it back!"

Christina knelt down beside her.

"Samantha, calm down," she said, taking her cellular phone out of her pocket. Even though Christina had recovered from her initial shock, Samantha was sobbing against her shoulder when the paramedics came. Before they did, however, a crowd of choir students had gathered.

"Dude, look at his face! Sick, man."

"Poor guy. He looks like he's gone through Hell."

"I don't blame him. If I had a face like that, I'd wear a mask."

"Ouch. Did that hurt? I wonder how long he's been like that."

"I hope he's okay. He was really strict, but I liked his class."

"Yeah, I did, too. Mom stopped yelling at me to shut up when I got in choir this year!"

They loaded an unconscious Erik into the ambulance. His white mask lay forgotten on the pavement until Samantha picked it up and put it in her purse.

"Christina," Samantha said hesitantly, "I really wanted to tell him. I didn't mean to get him hurt. But he told me that sometimes loving someone's not enough, so I went home and packed even though I was mad because you told him."

She dissolved into tears. Christina hugged her tightly.

"It's all right. You can stay with me. We'll go see him."

She put Samantha's suitcases into the trunk and they made the journey to the hospital in silence.

They weren't the only ones that had been concerned about Erik. Most of his students were there, too. Despite his strictness with them, something about the man behind the mask sparked their curiosity and their sympathy.

"You may go in and see him," a nurse finally announced, "he's got a sore head and a compound fracture in his right wrist, but he'll be all right."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must warn you, however," the nurse said, stopping them from going down the hallway to Erik's room, "his face has been severely disfigured. It wasn't from the car accident; he seems to have had this injury for quite some time. Please don't get him stressed out, okay?"

They all agreed.

Erik was still trying to fight his way back to consciousness when the door creaked open and his students came in. He realized quite suddenly that he didn't have his mask and started to hide his face when Christina pulled his hands down.

"They've already seen your face, Erik. Don't worry about it."

The peaks and valleys on Erik's heart monitor suddenly started going much faster.

"It's not that big a deal," someone said.

He realized that they were all looking straight at him. Nobody got sick. Nobody screamed. Nobody passed out or ran away.

"Naw, man, we don't care," Keith said, "I used to live in da hood. I seen way worse than that."

They all started agreeing with him.

"Weren't you the one that said, like, our lungs were more important than our faces?"

Erik couldn't help but smile at that one.

"We're just glad you're okay," Victoria said, "you're the one teacher that understands me."

The nurse shooed everyone out after a while.

"You can come back tomorrow," she told them, "right now, Mr. Beaumont needs to rest."

Samantha had hidden herself behind the door and came out after the nurse had gone.

"Mr. Beaumont? I just wanted to apologize for this morning," she said, tears pouring down her cheeks, "I was mad, but I realized that you were right. I went home to get my stuff. I was going to tell you and Christina, but..."

The pain medicine that they'd injected into Erik's I.V. line was starting to take effect, but he forced himself to stay awake.

_Not now, _he argued with his body. At some point, Samantha had placed her hand on his. He turned his hand over and squeezed hers gently.

"It was just an accident," he told her, "I don't want you to be upset about it."

She shook with silent tears as she tried to pull herself together.

"But-"

Another squeeze silenced her.

"Go home. With Christina. Believe me, I've lived through much worse than this."

He watched her go. He heard her crying to Christina in the hallway. He hoped she'd stay firm on her decision this time. Then, he allowed the dark fog of medication running through his veins to carry him away.

It took some time to get used to the needle taped to the back of his hand. It took a little longer than that to figure out that he had to unplug the thing when he had to go to the bathroom. It was a good thing that they pumped him full of morphine because he was quite sore. His arm had taken most of the impact, but he was sore all over. He'd lifted his hospital gown up and found himself to be covered in bruises. He was hard pressed to find a part of himself, including his heart that didn't hurt. His one consolation was that it had been him instead of Samantha. As small and fragile as she was, she could have been killed.

By the next morning, Erik was ready to go home. The staff had constantly woken him up to check his blood pressure, temperature, and whatever else. They'd also drawn blood from him to make sure that no infection had come from the gash in his broken arm. Erik had come to the conclusion that a hospital was definitely not a place to sleep well at.

The doctor was reluctant, but he wrote Erik a prescription for some pain medicine, told him where to get it filled at, how many times to take it, and so forth. Christina picked Erik up and got the medicine for him. He'd thanked her, hugged her, got inside his house, and fallen asleep on the couch because he'd been too tired to go upstairs.

When he finally woke up for what seemed like real, Erik moaned. His whole body was hurting. Just thinking about moving hurt him. His arm felt like it was going to fall off any second. His body also felt heavy, like it was made out of lead. It felt like a hangover minus the sickness. He staggered into the kitchen, got one of his pills and a glass of water. Then, he managed to limp upstairs and fall asleep on his bed again.

Three days passed like that in a fog. On the fourth day, his arm wasn't bothering him quite so bad and he was able to stay awake several hours in a row without falling asleep. That was when he got a few unexpected visitors.

He was startled out of the book he was reading when someone banged on the door. He opened it cautiously. Seeing that it was Christine and a few of his students, he let them in.

"Hey, man, you gotta get better soon! Our substitute teacher is whack! She don't care about nobody!" Keith announced.

"Yeah. You know what she's making us do all hour? All she talks about is her ex-husband. Like we give a f-" Brad paused when Christina gave him a Look.

"Like we give a flip," he finished.

Erik couldn't help but give an amused look.

"I thought you didn't want to work," Erik reminded them, "I thought over half of my students walked out because they didn't care about singing."

"You kept us busy," Victoria reminded him, "made us forget our deep despair. You made us feel like we'd just sat down and the bell would ring."

"Which reminds me," Christine said, digging around in her purse, "we looked for your mask like you asked us to, but we couldn't find it. So we had a new one made. This one should be much more comfortable."

She gave him a white mask that looked just like his old one, but instead of being heavy and hard like the other one, it was made of a soft silky material.

"Thank you," Erik mumbled, putting it on. They were right; it was much more comfortable.

"We also came to sign your cast," Samantha announced, holding up a fistful of colored markers.

Erik wasn't familiar with the cast-signing ritual, but he went along with it. One by one, they wrote something or drew little pictures. Erik wasn't used to having a houseful of people, but he was surprised to find that he enjoyed their company.

"We should probably get going," Christina announced to all of them.

"Awww," they all groaned.

Erik couldn't help but smile. He found himself doing it a lot lately.

"Thank you all for coming," he told them as they collected on the porch, "I will try to be back next week."

The small crowd dispersed.

Erik watched them go, a strange sense of longing filling his heart that he'd never felt before. He looked at his colorful cast before putting his sling back on.

Yes, they were definitely growing on him. As much as he wanted to resent them, he couldn't. He cared about all of them and they had shown him that they cared about him just as much.

He couldn't wait to go back to school.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Nothing like a good weekend off from classes and homework to stimulate one's imagination

A/N: Nothing like a good weekend off from classes and homework to stimulate one's imagination. My parents' cooking probably helped, too.

Erik: Yes. For once, what you ate didn't come from a bag or a box.

Me: Beggars can't be choosers when it comes to college…you saw my bill yesterday, remember?

Erik: That was the worst imitation of a heart-attack I've ever seen. You're a worse actor than Carlotta.

Me: bows Why thank you. Now you know why I write the stories instead.

Erik: sighs Just put the update on the website, already.

Me: Fine.

Chapter 6

Erik had never been so tired of resting in his life. Against the doctor's wishes, he went back to school a week early. The students had obviously not expected him back. They were surprised to see him judging by their expressions when he came in. The broken arm didn't diminish from his dark and mysterious aura. Before he said anything to them, he read the note that the substitute teacher had left.

"This will never do," he said, making a face, "a whole week without singing? She's set us back quite a bit."

He continued to scan through the note.

"All of you had better have a good reason for getting into so much trouble," he said, tossing the note into the garbage can, "I don't want any of you ineligible for grades. I came back early for a reason."

Questioning looks filled their faces.

"Since I consider this class to be much more than an easy grade, I have taken the liberty of entering all of you in a contest."

Protests filled the room, but Erik only had to hold up his hand to shut them up. He'd done his homework during this past week as well.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" he asked.

Now he had their attention. The strictest teacher in school was giving them a choice?

"Yes, you would have to work very hard," Erik said, "you would have to stay after school and you would have extra practices on weekends. But, it would also mean being excused from some of your classes for practice during school hours, and the day of the contest, an entire day off. You would travel to the city with Ms. Bunn and I, and you could spend the time you aren't singing doing other things as long as you don't wander off too far."

Now he had their attention.

"Does that mean we could, like, go shopping?" One of the girls asked.

"As long as I don't end up carrying your bags," Erik said, eliciting a few chuckles from them.

"What about our boyfriends?" another girl yelled.

Erik was skimming through the list of other schools that would be there, but mumbling out loud on purpose.

"Roan Hills, St. George's School for Girls, West End Academy, St. Petersburg for Boys...hmmm..."

"We're in!"

The beginnings of a smile touched Erik's face. Excited exclamations of plans rumbled through the room.

"Such a shame that you all don't want to go," Erik said casually, "I had rather hoped-"

"Aww, come on man! We'll go!"

"Yeah!"

"Those of you who want to enter into the contest, stand up," Erik said, sounding casual even though he was just as excited as they were.

Not a single butt remained in their seats.

"Well then," Erik said, fighting the urge to jump up and down, "I suppose we will go. But I want absolutely no complaining, understood? And you must keep up with your work from your other classes. I will not be held responsible if you don't."

Mumblings filled the room, but they subsided quickly.

"Here is the sheet music. I want you all to keep track of these as though they are your life. Do not loose them because you will need to write certain things in them, places you might have some difficulty with. For this contest, you will need to learn two pieces forward and back. One of them will be a capella, meaning no accompaniment. I expect all of you to be on time for practices unless you have a very good reason."

They began work on the first piece. Erik bit back a curse when the bell rang. Samantha stayed behind.

"Mr. Beaumont? I just wanted to thank you. You know, for everything."

Before Erik could say anything, Samantha had pounced on him with a bone-crushing hug. Barely able to breathe and certainly not used to the gesture, Erik gently patted her on the back and hoped that she'd let go soon.

"You're welcome," he choked out.

Then, she released him and was gone.

"Well done, Erik," the Angel said, appearing a few feet away, "you've made a friend."

Erik wanted to laugh.

"For how long?" he asked, knowing that if his face hadn't chased her away, his temper certainly would.

"You saved her life, you know. In more ways than one."

Erik hadn't thought of it that way.

"I think you care about these kids," the Angel mused, examining the packet of contest information on Erik's desk, "I think you care about them more than you'll admit to."

"I don't," Erik said flatly, "this is just a job."

"Then why bother with the contest?"

The Angel had him there. It leaned its androgynous figure against the desk, grinning ear to ear.

"All right, fine," Erik mumbled, "I don't like to do anything halfway. Is that good enough?"

The Angel laughed.

"Close enough," it said, disappearing with a flash of light.

Erik had no earthly what idea he was getting into when he'd planned this contest. There was much more paperwork involved than he could ever have imagined. By the time he'd finally finished typing out the permission forms, he was quite good with the word processor program on the computer. After Christina had helped him figure out how to change out the ink cartridges on the printer, he'd watched in mild fascination as it spat out thirty-five copies of the permission forms one right after the other. That definitely came in handy! He also had to figure out roughly how much it would cost to take the students. That by itself was a major chore. Erik had a good head for numbers, but he had to get used to thinking in terms of dollars instead of francs. That took another day and a half and Christina also helped him with that.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Christine asked as she pecked some more numbers into the calculator.

"Afraid not," Erik replied, trying to fight off the headache that was threatening to take over.

"Don't worry. The school budget has enough that we can go. The only thing that the kids actually have to pay for is food and whatever else they want to buy."

Erik breathed a sigh of relief. He was startled to see that it was dark outside.

"How long have we been sitting here?"

Christina checked her watch.

"About six hours. God, I'm starving. Let's call it a night and get some dinner. You're going to have your hands full tomorrow."

She and Erik got in her car.

"How is Samantha doing?" he asked, suddenly curious.

Christina buckled her seatbelt and started the car.

"She's doing better. The cuts on her arms are healing up. She still feels terrible about your arm."

"It will heal," Erik said dismissively, "I've had worse to deal with than this."

"You ever had Chinese before? This place has the best takeout I've ever eaten," Christina said, gesturing to a building with a colorful sign.

"I haven't," Erik said honestly.

"Well, let's be adventurous tonight."

She pulled into one of the parking spaces. Erik told her to order for him. Once they got their food, they ended up in park behind a pond.

"This is the park. Nobody knows what it's really called because everybody just calls it 'the park'. Thought we could use a backdrop different than school."

They ate in relative silence while the radio played. Moonlight shone on Christina. It was strange how different she was from Christine. Christine had been small, scared, and insecure. Christina, on the other hand, was strong. She looked like a Goddess by moonlight, but Erik didn't dare say anything. She'd been nice enough to him already and he wasn't about to ruin it.

Chinese food was different than anything he'd ever eaten, but it was a pleasant kind of different. The spiciness was addictive. When all the little boxes had been emptied, Christina held up a strange-looking thing.

"Time for fortune cookies. You break it open and eat the cookie. The little piece of paper inside tells you your fortune."

Erik did as she said, but the light was better on her side, so she took the paper and read it out loud.

"You will find your solution where you least expect it," she said. Then, she gave the little piece of paper to him.

"Hang onto it," she said, "it might be good luck."

Then, she broke her own open while Erik crunched on his cookie.

"True beauty can be found in the place you least expect it," she said. Erik was grateful he'd swallowed a split second earlier.

"That I can believe," Christina laughed, "Samantha said you were the scariest man she'd ever met until you sang."

Erik's face flushed slightly and he was grateful that the darkness hid it.

"It's not the first time I've heard that I frightened people," he admitted.

"Well, they're not afraid now. All I could hear from the students that came from your class yesterday was 'the contest' this, 'the contest' that. They're excited and it's your doing. You should be very flattered that they are."

"I will have to see how many come to practice," Erik reminded her.

They approached Erik's house much sooner than he would have liked.

"Thank you for dinner. Thank you for helping me so much," Erik said before getting out of the car.

"You are most welcome," Christina said, giving him a big smile. He watched the red taillights disappearing into the night.

"I know that expression, young man."

Erik jumped. Margie had appeared by the gate. He unlocked it for her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied smoothly.

Margie wasn't buying it.

"I think you do. You're falling in love with Miss Christina."

Erik wished he could deny it to himself as well as he could deny it to others. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was unable to find the words.

"I thought so." Margie was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"Nothing will come of it," Erik sighed, "she would not want a beast like me."

"When you're in a good mood, you can be quite charming, especially with that violin," Margie reminded him, "and you have a voice that could call the angels down from the heavens. What woman wouldn't fall in love with you?"

That was definitely the first time Erik had ever heard that one. He looked at Margie as if she'd had two heads.

"Your face isn't the issue, is it, son? You're just afraid that she'll think it is."

Erik folded his arms over his chest.

"How did you know about that?"

"Samantha told me, dear. I don't think of you any less because of it."

The firmness in her tone warmed Erik's heart more than anything else.

"I know you're scared, young man, but don't let it pass you by. You'll blink and twenty or thirty years will have gone by before you know it. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for this old lady to drag her old bones to bed."

"Good night," Erik said, walking away. His mind was moving very, very fast.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Holy cow

A/N: Holy cow! Didn't expect this many reviews for such a new story! I love you guys!

Erik: More reviews! (plays organ menacingly)

Me: It's addictive, isn't it? I hope you guys like this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

"Stop," Erik demanded. The room fell silent.

"Start from measure sixteen _again_. And this time, don't do it halfway! The contest is in less than a week."

He heard a lot of sighs, but they did what he asked. He was surprised to find out just how many students were willing to put up with his short temper and strict teaching. Every permission slip he'd sent out had come back signed. Even Samantha's, which surprised him. Christina was in the process of trying to adopt her, but it was a tug of war as usual. Christina promised Samantha that she would pay for her since Samantha's parents refused to give her any money.

One month seemed like years to all of them. Erik had gone measure by measure on both songs and wouldn't move on until the sound pleased him. Once they'd done that, they would switch back and forth between songs. Right now, he was trying to put finishing touches on the songs.

The tired teenagers were beginning to slump in their chairs. They'd been at it all day. Erik had to give them credit; they were every bit as stubborn as he was. Brad had jokingly called him "the Drill Sergeant". Despite Erik's irritation, he couldn't help but be amused.

His keen ears listened for the slightest mishap. They still messed up, but not nearly as bad. At least Erik hadn't had the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. He still winced, but not as noticeably. When the song was over, they waited for him to criticize them.

"Take a break," he sighed. Everyone stampeded out of the room to go get a snack, a drink, or to stretch their legs.

"Seven classes," Keith said, laughing, "and this is the only one I bother to show up for and do any work in."

A smirk graced Erik's face as he walked behind Keith, who was leaning his chair back. He grabbed the chair and acted like he was going to tip it over. He didn't, but he got Keith's attention.

"I feel very special," Erik joked, sitting his chair back upright. At first, Keith was so surprised that he just stared at Erik with wide dark eyes. Then, he laughed.

"Hey, man, you have a sense of humor! I was beginning to think-"

"That my ability to laugh was gone with the other side of my face? No. I just don't use it very often."

"We're becoming a bad influence," Victoria said from the doorway, "I will never look at a staff the same way again."

The banter continued as the other students came back inside.

"I hope all of you see a music note and at least recognize it after this," Erik said, lounging on his piano bench.

"We'll see one and run screaming the other direction," Samantha teased.

"Just do it in the right key," Erik said, a twinkle in his green-gold eyes.

Everyone laughed.

"Why didn't you tell us that you had a cool side?" Brad asked.

"You won't think that by the end of this week," Erik warned him, the twinkle showing again.

Christina came in carrying a covered plate. The smell coming out was making everyone's mouth water.

"I heard you guys were having a late night, so I brought brownies."

Everyone grabbed one off the plate. Christina was mildly surprised at seeing the students having pulled their chairs up around Erik in a loose circle.

"Ms. Bunn, you make the best brownies ever! They're better than my mom's!" Victoria announced. Erik just nodded because his mouth was full. He'd had chocolate before, but not like this. Oh, this was heaven!

Even though the brownie itself was gone after a few minutes, the sweetness remained. Almost reluctantly, he reminded them that they had to get back to singing. Everyone sounded refreshed after their snack and did much better. As a reward, Erik let them go a whole hour early. Christina had gone home already, so he walked home.

"You're doing better than I expected," the Angel said. It had appeared in the living room the instant Erik had closed the door behind him.

"Coming from you, that's a compliment," Erik sighed, collapsing into his favorite squishy armchair by the fireplace.

"Long day, huh?" The Angel asked, obviously amused.

"Not as long as the day we started," Erik admitted, "they have improved considerably since we began."

"You like them."

"I'm doing my job, that's all."

"Yes, you are, but you like them."

"Maybe," he finally gave in.

The Angel lounged on the back of Erik's couch.

"If you had to choose between staying here and going back, would you stay?"

That got Erik's attention. He stared at his reflection in the glass of the fireplace. Here, he had been out in public and no one had been exceptionally mean to him. More people had accepted him here than anywhere. They'd even seen his face and hadn't made an issue of it. Back home, he was known more for his musical talent and he ran the best opera house in France, but he'd been so lonely. Here, he could be someone. Back in Paris, there was nothing but shadows and despair.

"I would stay," he said.

The Angel grinned.

"You know, I was considering putting you back there the entire time. But you've adapted here much better."

"There is nothing in Paris for me," Erik admitted, more to himself than to the Angel, "I was rich, but alone. I had respect, but only out of fear. I've had two true friends in my entire life there. At least here I can pass my knowledge to someone else."

"And you love Christina," the Angel announced. Erik stared at the Angel, an exasperated sigh escaping his pursed lips.

"Why does everyone insist that?" he demanded.

"Because you know it as well as they do," the Angel reminded him, "everyone can see it but you."

Erik's irritation gave way to a shadow of uncertainty.

"You've learned much about other people in the short time you've been here," the Angel said, its voice taking on a very motherly tone, "now, it's time for you to learn about love."

It snapped its fingers and a fire started in the fireplace.

"Eat a good dinner, get some rest," the Angel told him, "you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

It disappeared, leaving a small box on the couch cushion where it had been sitting. Erik picked it up and opened it.

It was a silver charm bracelet. Tiny silver figures dangled from the chain: a paintbrush, a pallet, a piece of canvas, a tube of paint, and an artist's hat. He carried the box gingerly upstairs as though it was the most fragile thing he'd ever dealt with and placed it on his bedside table before going back downstairs to make dinner.

The next morning, Erik's gut was tied in knots. He'd added a baby blue ribbon to the box and placed it on Christina's vacant desk before going back to his own classroom. Things went business as usual. Erik purposely rerouted his routine for the day so that he would avoid bumping into Christina. He'd managed to go the entire school day without seeing her, but his luck gave out while he was waiting for everyone to come in for after school practice. He didn't even hear her come in and jumped when he realized she was talking to him.

"I wanted to thank you for my bracelet," she said, grinning, "it's the sweetest gift I ever got."

Erik opened his mouth to ask how she'd known that it had been him when she cut him off.

"Sam saw you bring it in," she explained.

Erik felt as though he had a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard.

"I'm glad you like it."

She held out the bracelet.

"I can't get it on one-handed. And it's your present, so you have to do the honors anyway."

The beginnings of a smile tugged his lips as he fastened the clasp around her smooth lightly tanned wrist. She had very graceful-looking hands. Even though his hands were barely grazing hers, Erik felt as though electric sparks were tingling through his body. The bracelet was a perfect fit.

"How's your arm coming?" She gestured to his cast, which was now absolutely filled with words of encouragement and colorful doodles.

"The cast should be off next month," he said, wishing it were sooner, "and I'll be grateful to be rid of it."

"I can imagine. Playing your instruments must be hard with it being in the way."

She had no earthly idea how Erik struggled with it. He could still play piano and organ because his fingers had no trouble moving when he took his sling off. But playing violin decently was nearly impossible because he couldn't bend his wrist.

"It is. But I will forever remember my students for this," Erik joked, gesturing to the little drawings and words.

"Here they come," Christina said as the students began to come in, "I'd better get going. There's a half-off sale of paint at the art store."

He watched her go, wishing he could keep her there a second longer.

"You like her, don't you?"

Erik turned to see Samantha standing there.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Erik lied.

"Yes you do. I know that look. I get that same goofy look when Brad--"

Samantha's mouth slammed shut abruptly when she realized how much she'd said. Brad walked into the room a few seconds later, completely unaware.

"Please don't tell," she hissed sideways while trying to give Brad a nervous smile.

"I won't tell if you won't," Erik hissed back. She went to her usual chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Erik wanted to laugh. He hated to say it, but they were in the same boat there. He wondered if she'd be able to tell Brad.

No. He could see it. She was gazing at Brad the way Christine had once gazed at the picture of the angel in the Opera's chapel. Samantha wanted Brad so much, but she felt as though she wasn't good enough. The wheels in Erik's head began to turn again. Even though he couldn't see the true Angel of Music, he could feel it grinning, too.

The morning of the contest came too soon. Erik rose from his bed several hours earlier than he would have liked to. He was still rubbing his eyes and working on his third cup of coffee when he approached the school. The morning was damp and chilly. He'd wished he'd brought a heavier jacket. Maybe it would be warmer on the bus.

The hallways seemed huge and never-ending in the dark. Shadows seemed to live and breathe. It wasn't scary, but it was nerve-wracking. Everytime Erik thought he saw one of those shadows squirm, he felt like his insides did, too. When he flipped the lights on, he felt as though he was nearly blinded.

It wasn't long before Christina showed up, too. She was yawning just as much as he was.

"You got anymore coffee? I'm completely out."

He retrieved a Styrofoam cup and poured some out of his thermos. She thanked him and downed it in one gulp.

"I hate how early these contests always seem to be," she yawned, "it's like they do it on purpose."

Without thinking, she rested her head on Erik's shoulder for a moment before answering her ringing cell phone. For the split second that her warm cheek rested there, Erik's heart nearly stopped. When she started talking to Samantha, Erik let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

One by one, the students trickled in. Many of them were still in their pajamas, but they promised Erik that they would change once they got to the contest. Several of them lugged pillows and blankets with them. Erik halfway wished he'd done the same thing.

The bus driver pulled up into the empty parking lot. They all got in with Christina and Erik sitting in the front two seats. Once everything was all set, the bus driver pulled out.

"As soon as we get there, we'll stop for breakfast," Christina announced, "and a much-needed bathroom break. Everybody get what you want done there because we'll only have time to stop once. Don't ask to unless you're about to wet yourself. As soon as we get to the university to where the contest is being held, all of you need to get changed as quickly as possible. We're going to be the third ones to go and that means, girls, no dawdling in the bathroom. The judges don't care if your hair or makeup are just right and they will count off points for being late."

She turned to Erik.

"Did I forget anything?" she asked. Erik shook his head. She sat back down.

Most of the early morning passed in silence. Erik wasn't sure when Christina ended up sitting beside him in his seat. He also wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep and ended up with her head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around her and she leaned into his touched. Suddenly overcome by drowsiness, his eyes slid closed.

When he woke, Christina had returned to her own seat and was awake talking to some of the girls. The sun had risen and the rest of the world was now waking up. Erik adjusted his mask, which had slipped over a little. The bus driver was pulling into the fast food restaurant.

The food wasn't the best, but Erik ignored the taste. He was starting to see some excitement being awakened in his sleepy students as they ate their poorly prepared sausage biscuits and tasteless scrambled-egg burritos.

"You know, you're going to have helped them more than you'll ever know," Christina told him, "they'll talk about this for years to come no matter how good or bad they do in the contest."

He wondered if she'd allowed her hand to brush his on purpose.

Erik spent the last half of the trip giving them last minute tips and instructions. At last, they reached the university. Everyone scrambled for their bags and stampeded off the bus. Erik and Christina followed, stretching their cramped muscles.

"I guess we wait over there," Christina said, gesturing to a door.

She was right. They went inside to where the theater was. It was a much simpler version of the opera house. Other music instructors sat in the front rows on the sides while the judges sat right in the center.

The first choir that came on was okay. The second one was a complete train wreck. Erik watched their music instructor walk off the stage while shaking her head in disgust. He took a deep breath in and took his place behind the music stand as his own students filled the risers just as he'd situated them during the last week of practice. He heard them take in a breath as the girl playing piano started the opening notes.

They opened their mouths and Erik resisted the temptation to let his jaw drop. For the first time, he was truly listening to them and not their mistakes. The dark, earthy tones of the bases, the soft, light tones of the tenors, the strength of the altos, and the sweetness of the sopranos blended into a sound that pleased the ear as candy pleases the tongue. No one was out of tune nor off beat. No one sounded as though they were only half-trying. The black and white notes on the page seemed to sparkle and come alive. Erik allowed himself to smile and the smile got contagious until a sea of smiles was looking back at him. As he conducted the second song, the one with no background music, he was in very high spirits.

"So when do we find out how we did?" Brad asked when they'd emerged into the hallway.

"Two o'clock," Erik said, feeling his lungs having tightened from excitement, an emotion that was relatively foreign to him.

"So, what did you think?" Samantha asked.

"I am probably much stricter than those judges," Erik said as they all looked up at him, "but I would have given you one of the top awards."

They went to go get lunch. Everyone splintered into different directions. Erik and Christina brought their food back and ate in the park.

"Were you ever in any contests?" Christina asked.

Erik swallowed the bite he'd been chewing.

"No," he admitted truthfully, "though I felt as though I were."

"I was in one contest. Then, I got careless and twisted my ankle, made it weak. I haven't been in a contest since."

Erik gave her a sympathetic look.

"I've never seen you dance. Will you show me?"

"Maybe," Christina said, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Just then, she burst out laughing because a very strange look crossed Erik's face. He was giving that expression to three teenagers that passed them. One of them had bright purple hair. One of them had a huge Mohawk hairdo that was dyed bright yellow. And another one had multicolored braids.

"What happened to them?" Erik asked as they walked away.

"Welcome to today's youth," Christina joked, "they all think they have to look like tropical fish."

Erik shook his head, but whether in disgust or confusion, she did not know.

"And I thought Victoria was strange," he admitted, "those three make Victoria look like a nun."

Christina chuckled.

"You're really funny when you stop trying to be tough," she said, holding her sides, "I haven't laughed this much in a long time."

Another girl walked by and her hair was bright green. Both of them laughed this time. Erik's laugh was something of a rarity, but Christina loved it. It was light and easy on the ears.

"I can't wait until they've finished judging," Christina said, collecting the garbage and throwing it in the nearby can, "I bet the kids are having kittens right now."

Erik didn't bother to wonder what "having kittens" meant because he noticed their students approaching. It was getting close to time.

"Where are we supposed to go?"

They led the students into the crowded auditorium. A short, squat woman with a fluffy white dress and a hat that was too large for her round head got on the stage with a microphone.

"All right everyone, first, I just want to thank you on behalf of Bellmont University for coming today. Let's give our instructors and choirs a hand."

Applause filled the room for a moment.

"If your school is announced a place, your instructor will come up here to get your trophy. If you get first prize, I want the instructor AND the choir up onstage."

The three judges came up onstage with an envelope. The short woman with the microphone took it and opened it. She began to read through the list.

"Fourth place goes to Jacksonville High. Congratulations Jacksonville!"

A tall, lanky woman with dark hair that was in her early forties came to get the small trophy. Applause filled the room.

"Third place goes to St. George's School for Girls. Congratulations, St. George's."

Some of the students were getting antsy. Victoria was fiddling with her nose ring, Samantha was twisting a strand of hair in her fingers, Brad's leg was bouncing, and Keith was biting his lip.

"Second place goes to Brightside High. Congratulations, Brightside."

Erik didn't want to admit it, but the suspense was getting to him, too.

"And first prize goes to..."

The next two words seemed to take forever. Erik could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

"Roan Hills!"

The applause was deafening. Stunned, Erik went up on the stage with shrieking, crying, laughing, rejoicing students behind him. He was sure he'd misheard until the cold metal handles of the trophy were pressed into his hands. He was vaguely aware of Christina hugging them, then several of the other girls did, too. He was being crushed from all sides by emotional females. The boys were giving him high-fives and cuffing him on the shoulders.

He looked at the balcony seating above the crowd and saw the Angel. It gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm so sorry for this taking forever

A/N: I'm so sorry for this taking forever. First, my computer broke and I had to get a new part for it. Then, my muse (glares over shoulder) mysteriously disappeared for a couple of weeks, so I had a terrible case of writer's block. I hate writer's block; it's a Phangirl's worst nightmare!

Erik: (sighs wearily and slumps down onto the bed) Do you know how many Phangirls call me to them every day? Being a muse is a full-time job, you know!

Me: (stares)

Erik: (rolls over and turns his back to the audience) Lazy college student.

Me: Hey! I resent that! You won't have a word to say next semester during finals week!

Erik: (grins) If I stay here that long. (Dodges a book being thrown).

Me: (rolls eyes) Don't you have some theater managers to hassle?

Erik: That's what I do when you watch Dr. Phil.

Me: (sigh) Might as well start the story. (keyboard pecking)

Erik: (muttering to self) At least Sybl doesn't try to kiss me and take me hostage…(rubs lipstick print off of his mask).

Chapter 8

Everyone was in full song on the bus ride home. Erik didn't know most of the words, but he picked up on a few of the choruses. Since it was getting late, everyone grabbed their food and brought it on the bus. Everyone toasted their to-go cups together.

"I have never seen the kids this happy," Christina told him as they all sang "Pocketful of Sunshine".

"Neither have I," Erik said truthfully. He was in a decidedly intoxicated mood, but whether it was from having won the contest or the large amounts of sugar he'd eaten that day. He'd never seen a society dedicated to junk food in his life. They'd all bought different things and shared with everyone, Erik and Christina included. Twinkies, M&M's, brownies, iced mocha coffee, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, and several other things had left his head spinning. Erik had never ever had a sugar rush until now.

"Hey, man," Brad had said, raising his Mountain Dew in the air, "you're all right."

Erik touched his own cup to Brad's.

The hyperactivity was contagious and it didn't die down for several hours. By the time they arrived back at the school that night, however, everyone was thoroughly exhausted. Erik placed the trophy on top of the classroom piano before turning the light off and getting ready to go home.

"Nice night, isn't it?" Christina asked.

The red taillights of the students' (or their parents') cars were fading in the distance. Everything was still and dark all of the sudden. The sky was frosted with stars, though the moon had been waning and didn't show itself.

"Yes," Erik admitted, even though it was getting just a little too chilly for comfort.

"You know, the Halloween dance is going to be next week. They ask all the teachers to chaperone even though it's not mandatory. Are you coming?"

Erik had been told about the dance, but he'd totally forgotten about it because of the contest.

"I don't know."

The whole idea of dances kind of made him shudder. He would forever be haunted by the masquerade incidents.

"Would you go if I said I was going?" Christina asked.

"Maybe."

They were still standing in the parking lot which was lit by orange-yellow light. Her dark eyes pleaded with him and his heart almost broke right in two. When Christine had been trying to get her way, she'd done just that to everyone. They had identical expressions.

"Please, Erik? I'm the only single teacher there and I'm going to feel ridiculous."

"All right."

He vaguely wondered why he'd felt his mouth move and heard the sound come out though he'd never decided to say anything.

"Thanks."

She hugged him again, but this time he was ready. His strong arms surrounded her and his nose picked up the flowery scent of her perfume. She let go and smiled that sweet smile that made him melt inside.

"I'll see you Monday," she said as she got into her car.

He watched it disappear down the road and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Then, he realized something.

'See you Monday?' Goodness, a whole week had gone by and he hadn't even noticed! Erik wanted to laugh at his own ignorance. He'd let this contest consume so much of his time that he hadn't realized how fast the time had been going by. He inhaled deeply and let the scent of falling leaves fill him. He felt dizzy and silly and it was addictive. It was the best he'd felt in a long, long time. He took his time walking home even though he was beginning to shiver a little.

As he unlatched the gate, he noticed that Margie wasn't outside and that her lights were turned off. Slightly disappointed, he unlocked his door and went inside. For once, he'd been hoping she'd be there.

Usually, the Angel would make an appearance, but this time, the house was silent. Erik hoped that this was a sign he'd done something right. He took a long, leisurely hot bath to uncramp his muscles (stiff from riding on the bus all day) and drifted into a hard-won sleep.

He didn't do it intentionally, but he slept until it was almost noon. When he did wake up, he took his time getting out of bed. Breakfast followed, then he spent the afternoon at his organ. He looked at the violin longingly, but he knew his cast would get in the way. Besides that, his arm was getting sore and it was time to put the sling back on. He knew he'd be grateful for the day they finally took this accursed cast off.

A knock at his door startled him when he had paused to write some notes down. Putting his sling back on as he came down the stairs, he figured it would either be Margie or Christina.

Margie's warm face greeted him when he opened the door.

"Hello, Erik! How's that arm doing?"

"The doctor said he would remove this cast in three weeks," Erik told her, "it cannot come soon enough."

"I imagine not. I can't wait for you to play the violin for us again. Christina and Sam are over for dinner. Would you like to join us?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Erik followed her.

He'd been to Margie's house on a couple of occasions, but this time it seemed different. Samantha had a glow about her that she'd never had before.

"Dinner's not quite ready," Margie said, "but it will be shortly. Christina, I'm short in the britches and I can't get that big mixing bowl for salad. Could you get it?"

Both Erik and Samantha chuckled at Margie's choice of words.

"How's your arm?" Samantha asked him.

"How is yours?" Erik responded.

Samantha held out her arm. The cutting scars had healed and were barely noticeable shiny pink lines. With time, they would fade enough that only the shine would be visible.

"I kept my promise for the first time in my life," Samantha said, obviously proud of herself, "I'm glad I went to live with Christina. The court date's on Monday, and this time I'm not going back. I'm a little scared, though."

Ordinarily, Erik would have laughed and asked her what she was so scared of. Instead, he said, "I don't blame you."

"It's just so hard, you know? I got used to it. I got used to them telling me what a fat slut I was all the time. I got used to the pain and the cutting and feeling like I was useless. It's weird because it's been that way for so long. Now, I just...I don't know."

Erik was no Dr. Phil (whom he'd seen on television recently), but he took a stab at it anyway.

"You are afraid that something else will go wrong."

Samantha looked up at him, startled.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"Christina won't let anything else happen to you. Margie won't let anything happen to you. And," he paused for a moment, considering the weight that his words would carry, "I won't let anything happen to you."

Before he could register anything else, he was being squashed senseless in Samantha's hug.

"You're very strong," Erik laughed, resisting the urge to massage his crushed ribs.

"Thanks. When you grow up with two drunk and very violent parents, you get that way. So, are you going to ask Christina to go to the dance with you?"

"She asked me." Erik responded.

Samantha squealed, causing Erik to cringe.

"That's so cool! So, have you picked out a costume for the dance?"

"No," he admitted.

"Oh, my God! I have to help you! But the question is, what am I going to be?"

Erik suppressed a chuckle. NOW she sounded like a normal teenage girl!

She leaned over and whispered her plan in his ear. He nodded in agreement just as Margie announced that dinner was on the table.

The next afternoon, Samantha showed up driving Christina's car. The two of them went to the seasonal shop that carried everything one could possibly need for particular holidays. Erik decided to go with simplicity. His outfit would be a deep red with a dark cape, a modified version of the Red Death outfit he'd worn in Paris. Samantha, however, seemed to have no idea where to start. As they paced the aisles and racks of costumes, she was beginning to get frustrated.

Erik spotted a gold dress that had been forgotten on the back of a chair. He picked it up and shook it out. Then, he compared notes. Yes, it definitely seemed to be her size.

"Oh, no! I can't wear that! The scars on my wrists will show!" Samantha objected.

He could see it in her eyes. She wanted that dress.

"Why don't you try it on? I'll look for something that will cover your arms," Erik told her. He gave her the dress before she could object and went the other way. Sighing resignedly, she stepped into the fitting room and closed the door.

It took longer than he thought it would, but he found some white satiny gloves that had gold trim. They came almost up to the elbows and would definitely hide Samantha's scars. Having left Christine a few outfits in his time as well as jewelry, Erik had surprisingly good taste in clothes and jewelry for a man with so little experience with women. He chose a simple gold locket on a choker-style chain as jewelry. Then, he searched for what else could go with the costume. A white headband got his attention. He picked it up. It was fluffy and soft with fake down feathers on it. Sticking up a couple of inches was a golden halo.

"Mr. Beaumont, if you laugh, I will kill you," Samantha's voice said. He turned to see her standing there looking more self-conscious than she ever had. But, he had to admit, the dress was very becoming.

"Stand up straighter," Erik said, making a face, "you look as though you've just committed a crime and are afraid of being caught."

He gave her the things he'd picked up and she tried them on.

"I don't have any wings," she said.

"I do," the shopkeeper said. She went into the back and retrieved some that were made of pure whit feathers. They were fake, but they were good enough that one couldn't tell the difference.

"Just one more thing," Erik said. He reached behind her head and tugged the band loose that was holding her wavy brown hair back. Before she could protest, he also took her glasses off and spread her hair around her shoulders.

"Perfect."

She looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't believe it. The dress showed that, despite being so thin, that she had curves and not bulges. She didn't even recognize herself.

"Is that me?"

Erik couldn't suppress a smile.

"I believe we're ready," he said when she'd changed into her regular clothes and come back out of the dressing room.

The night of the dance came much sooner than Erik would have liked. Just as he'd pulled his skull-mask down over his face, he heard Christina's car in the driveway.

Erik's stomach twisted itself into a knot. He'd never been to one of these things--well, he had, but not when he wasn't busy terrorizing the inhabitants of the opera house.

"Just go already," a voice said. Erik saw the Angel appear behind him. He'd been looking in the mirror.

"Why are you here this time?" Erik asked.

The Angel of Music gave him a grin.

"Moral support. Your dear Christina is dressed as a fairy queen. Go."

Erik swept down the stairs, swishing the cape around. With shaking hands, he locked his door and made his way down the driveway.

Christina's heart leapt to her throat. All she'd ever really seen Erik wear was black, white, and gray. He looked stunning in red. Stunning and...sexy. He wore calf-length boots and his pants fit very close to his body and left little to the imagination. The shirt was red, long-sleeved, and that also fit rather closely to him. The cape was dark on the inside, red on the outside. He'd applied dark paint around his eyes where the holes were to give them a hollowed out look. She recognized the character from an Edgar Allen Poe story she'd read recently and smiled. Erik even had a sword in a hilt on his belt. She doubted that it was real, but it added to his attractiveness. As usual, his dark hair was slicked back from his face.

Erik got in the car, his own heart fluttering uncharacteristically. He tried his best to ignore it.

Christina wore her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She had a silver, sparkling tiara on her head with iridescent jewels glittering in it. Her costume was white, but it shone different colors depending on which way she moved. Brightly colored butterfly wings decorated with jewels were strapped to her back and she wore little satin ballet slippers. All of her makeup was pastel-colored and only served to accentuate her beautiful face. In the backseat, Samantha was finishing up her makeup. She had done all of her makeup in gold, which was a very flattering color for her.

They arrived at the school shortly before the crowds did. No sooner did they all get in the door than they were almost run over by teenagers in varying costumes. Some of them were very impressive, some were just ridiculous. Erik wondered what one boy had been thinking when he showed up in a cow costume, complete with udders stuck to the belly.

He recognized several of his students stampeding in. Victoria was dressed as a dark angel and wore a jaggedly cut black dress. She took advantage of the night and had every single one of her piercings in. Erik cringed slightly and wondered just how much she hurt with the metal glinting out of her skin. Brad came in behind her wearing a dragon costume. He paused to say hi and Erik didn't recognize him until he lifted his mask off for a moment. Keith came in and slapped Brad a high-five. He was dressed like a rap star. Sherry, Bobby, Tommy, Madison, Ashley, Britney, Jason, and Ash were also there. The DJ turned on the music. Couples began pairing off. He noticed Samantha all alone in the corner.

Brad was scanning the crowd. He was surrounded by girls, but he didn't seem to want to dance with anyone. Then, his gaze landed on Samantha. A smile crossed his face and he went to her corner. She looked up at him in surprise. Erik was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he saw Samantha take Brad's offered hand. They went onto the dance floor.

"She told me you helped her with the costume," Christina said, "she loves it. It gave her a little bit of confidence."

Erik felt good that he'd actually done something right for a change.

"Want to dance?" Christina asked.

He was most definitely not used to dancing this way. It made him feel a little strange, but he'd adapted after the middle of the song. He moved with an easy grace that made Christina feel like she was walking on air.

Then, the next song that played made the world around them melt away.

_Anywhere you go,_

_anyone you meet, _

_remember that your eyes_

_can be your enemies._

_I said Hell is so close,_

_heaven's out of reach,_

_but I ain't giving up quite yet,_

_we've got too much to lose..._

_Hold me down, sweet and low, little girl,_

_hold me down and I'll carry you home,_

_hold me down, sweet and low little girl_

_hold me down..._

_and I'll carry you home._

The side of Christina's forehead was pressed gently against Erik's cheek. Her arms had entwined around his shoulders and back. Erik was holding her gently, feeling her breath. The other teachers were beginning to stare a little, but they were being completely ignored. The principal dragging a French-kissing couple off the dance floor beside them didn't even break the trance.

_The rain is gonna fall,_

_the sun is gonna shine._

_The wind is gonna blow,_

_the water's gonna rise._

_She said when that day comes,_

_look into my eyes, _

_but no one's giving up quite yet,_

_we've got too much to lose..._

The chorus repeated. Erik was feeling intoxicated. His once icy blood ran warm and fresh through his veins. His stomach felt warm as though he'd just drank something hot. Christina's breath against his neck was filling him with a childish excitement and for once, the unknown did not frighten him as it once did. Memories of his song once seducing Christine flooded his mind, but the monstrous tidal wave was pushed back by Christina's hands. This time, they were both leaning into the moment and they were both equals. The Phantom of the Opera would have been purring like a cat if that were possible. He had forgotten the monster he'd become and Christina was not the frightened immature girl he'd left behind in the past, but a confident, caring young woman. Erik's heart wasn't thundering, but it was a steady pulse beneath his narrow ribs.

_And I'll carry you_

_all the way, _

_When you say you're fine,_

_but you're still young_

_and out of line_

_When all I need's to turn around,_

_to make it last, to make it count_

_I ain't gonna make the same mistakes_

_that put my mama in her grave_

_I don't want to be alone..._

Erik's breath caught. The realization of everything that had happened truly came into focus. He realized that he never had to go back to his dismal life of being lonely ever again. Tears welled in his eyes, not of sadness, not of grief, but of gratitude and release. He had a mother, Margie. He had a significant other, Christina, he had students that were also friends. He had a younger sister, Samantha. He felt like the richest man alive in that moment. No more dark dungeons, no more hiding in shadows, no more rage that attempted to drown out the anguish in his soul. The past was finally dying, burning out like a star in its death throes. Christina's lips brushed his and the illusion of who he had been, what he had been, shattered completely.

_Hold me down, sweet and low, little girl..._

_Hold me down..._

_And I'll carry you home..._

The spell eased off when the music died away, but it did not break. Erik saw Brad and Samantha kissing out of the corner of his eye. They pulled away just as a scolding teacher approached them. A few of their students were whispering to each other. Instead of feeling embarrassed and self conscious, Erik felt a strong sense of pride well up inside of him.

Someone had kissed him and it hadn't been pity. He knew that he'd remember this night for the rest of his life.

So, this is why dances seemed so important...


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: TWO updates in ONE day

A/N: TWO updates in ONE day! WHEEEEE! I'm on a roll! I suppose it was the least I could do for all of you guys. I appreciate your reviews like a fat kid appreciates candy! It's a short chapter, but it's worth it!

Erik: (stares) I'm beginning to wonder if I should give this to you now (clutches a cup of coffee).

Me: (snatches it) MINE! MY PRECIOUS! (breathes heavily for a second, then downs the thing in one gulp) Ahhh. Perfect. What would I do without you?

Erik: (shrugs) At least you're entertaining when you get like this. (Sits down on the edge of the bed to watch the author hyper-dance).

Me: Okay, on with the story! EEEEEE!

Erik: (cringes) Can you stop squeeing out of key! It's annoying!

Me: (sticks out tongue, then starts typing).

Chapter 9

The ride home was full of reluctance. Samantha hadn't wanted to leave Brad. She sat in the backseat with a dreamy smile on her face. Christina and Erik were making small-talk about how things had gone at the dance, each skirting the subject of their almost-kiss.

Erik's house appeared much too soon.

"Well, I guess I'll see you at school Monday," Christina sighed.

Before Erik could say anything, she inhaled awkwardly.

"Do you want to, um," she paused to think for a moment, "grab some coffee with me tomorrow morning?"

"Yes."

"Great! See you tomorrow."

Erik got out of the car and reluctantly watched it disappear into the distance.

"Why didn't you just kiss him?" Samantha asked.

"Because I want to make sure that I'm not imagining things," Christina confessed.

"Oh, please! You saw the way he was looking at you!"

Christina blushed and smiled warmly.

Erik felt things he'd never imagined he could feel. He closed the door behind him and gave an ecstatic sigh. He felt like jumping around like a child and singing at the top of his lungs. There in the dark, he was filled with so much vitality and light that it didn't seem so dark.

"The Phantom of the Opera has turned into Cinderella," the Angel of Music said, amused, "I take it that you had a good time?"

Erik turned to see the Angel lounging on the couch, looking like a parent that had waited up for a child.

"You had something to do with this, didn't you?" Erik asked.

"Of course I did. You can't always see me, but I'm always there. I whispered into the DJ's ear to choose that song. I knew you both would relate very well to it."

Erik switched on a lamp. The Angel was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"You forget, Erik, that I am all around. I'm as old as the earth, for there has been music since the dawn of time. The birds were the first to sing, and the crickets. Then, humans came along. I've watched them grow, learn to express their emotions. Music is what would be too silly, too sacred, or too secret to say otherwise. And I write the songs."

Humor glistened in the Angel's eyes.

"You've worked very hard to adapt to this life, to help the students and teach them. I decided to help you out since you were doing such a good job."

It extended its glowing hand. Erik grasped it in his own for a moment. The hand felt unusually warm, almost hot.

"Thank you," Erik said, warmth in his usually moody features, "for everything."

The Angel smiled and disappeared in a flash of light.

Erik went upstairs to his music room. He retrieved his violin and began to play a soft, warm melody that he didn't even realize he had in him. The only light was a lit candle sitting on top of his organ. When a sweet sleepiness overcame him, he blew it out and went to bed.

The next morning, Erik waited outside on his porch, violin tucked under his chin. Inspiration had filled him and he was playing melodies that seemed to materialize in his head like bubbles from the bottom of a lake.

"Good morning," Margie called. Erik raised his bow to acknowledge her and continued to play. She took this as an invitation to come over.

"My, my, Erik, you are glowing like an angel," she commented, "did something special happen?"

The slight flush on Erik's pale cheeks told Margie everything she needed to know.

"You and Christina, huh? Congratulations, young man!"

Margie wrapped one arm around him in a hug. Feeling unusually affectionate this morning, Erik returned it.

"I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Didn't I tell you?"

Erik stared at a loose nail in the porch, but he had a big smile on his face.

"Say it," Margie prodded.

"You were right," Erik sighed.

She was really starting to grow on him. Margie was what Erik pictured that his mother might have been like.

"Here she comes, boy," Margie whispered in his ear, "keep playing."

Erik did, although his palms were beginning to sweat slightly.

Christina got out of the car. She was wearing a pale yellow dress that flattered both her figure and her coloring. On her feet, she wore matching yellow slippers.

"You look lovely, dear," Margie commented.

"Thank you."

Christina sat down for a moment to listen to Erik play.

"Christina, why don't you dance for us?" Margie asked.

Christina blushed brightly.

"I'm terribly out of practice," she objected, "I haven't had time to practice lately.

"Oh, come on, dear, do it for old Grandma," Margie begged.

Erik began to play a very familiar tune, one that he would never forget: Think of Me.

Christina transformed instantly before his eyes. At first, she was horribly shy and stumbled around quite a bit. But soon, The Look came over her face, the one of aliveness and concentration. Her movements smoothed out and she began to dance very gracefully. The violin notes rose and fell, guiding her. In Erik's mind, they were floating around her like butterflies.

A gust of wind came along and blew some leaves up around them. The leaves seemed to dance in the breeze around her. Somewhere in the distance, the smell of fire drifted towards them. Someone had their fireplace going. Erik vowed to himself to bottle this moment in his memory.

A flash surprised him for a moment. Margie was holding a camera. She grinned like an impish schoolgirl and continued to take pictures of them.

The song ended and Christina took a little bow. Erik put his violin and bow down and clapped his hands. So did Margie.

"Ready for the coffee?" Christina asked.

They went to a small outdoor cafe. Leaves were falling all around, whirling and dancing in the breeze. The sunlight glistened on Christina's chocolate curls and smoothed out Erik's straight, slick hair. He took a drink too soon and the coffee stung as it burned down his throat. He didn't really notice, however, because he was busy listening to Christina.

"I had a really good time last night," she was saying, "it was nice to have someone there my age. Most of the men that teach at our school are at least ten or fifteen years older than I am and they're all either married or creeps. I usually hate school dances. Did you see the look on Samantha's face last night? I've never seen her so happy!"

Erik couldn't help but smile at that memory. It had felt good to help her. He'd only wished he'd had someone to talk to like that during his youth.

"Neither have I," he admitted, "Brad seems to have finally noticed her."

"And that was all your doing," Christina reminded him, "you're a genius. I've been telling her she's pretty for years, but she never believed me."

"Most women don't believe it when they're told that," Erik remarked.

"Why not?" Christina took a bite of blueberry muffin.

"Good question. They're told that if they believe it that they are vain. If they don't believe it, they have no self-confidence."

"You could have been a psychologist," Christina commented. Erik laughed.

"I don't have the patience."

"How did you learn so much about women?" she asked.

"I grew up in--" Erik paused, trying to avoid the words _opera house_, "a music school. I was surrounded by them, hundreds of women learning how to sing and dance. They are not as complicated as they appear. I learned a few things that I sometimes would rather have not learned."

They shared a chuckle.

"I can only imagine what that was like," Christina laughed, then, she adopted a prissy falsetto tone: "do these tights make me look fat?"

Erik's laugh rang out.

"There was one that I remember in particular," he chuckled, "named Carlotta. She loved expensive chocolate and spent a great deal of money on it. She would hide it under her pillow and in the drawers of her dressing room. Then, there was a play called 'Il Muto' and the costumes were rather ridiculous--she had to wear a corset to fit the dress. One of her attendants had to hold onto her, the other two had to pull in the corset strings. She could hardly sing that night because of all the pressure and she preferred risking a faint to admitting to needing the dress let out around her belly."

Christina dissolved in a fit of laughter. She nearly knocked her cup over and Erik steadied it. His eyes were sparkling.

"I was, as you would say, the 'class clown'. She used a special spray on her throat between stage appearances. I tampered with it the same night and she croaked like a frog. The audience was very amused. I had always thought she was a fat toad anyway."

Christina wiped tears of laughter away with the back of her hand.

"I wish you'd gone to this school," she gasped, trying to catch her breath, "you and I would have had a lot of fun together. I used to be the trouble-maker here."

She told Erik about dyeing one of the teacher's poodles hot pink and cotton-candy-blue, fake snakes in the grade books, clear jello in the toilets, and soap bubbles in the water fountains. Erik was clutching his aching sides by the time it was over.

"I also turtle-waxed the stage once," Christina said, "back then, the choir teacher was a pig of a woman named Charlotte Vadnais. We used to call her 'Miss Badness'. She was a fat thing, probably weighed, like, three-hundred pounds. She went to yelling at us about how we were terrible singers and stepped on the stage and went _zing_ right into the principal, who was standing right below it. We heard this 'crack!' and everybody just cracked up. I'm surprised I never got caught."

Erik could actually picture that in his mind. Yes, he and Christina would have had many adventures together below the opera house if they'd grown up.

"Coffee makes me hyper. Let's go for a walk!" Christina suggested.

They wandered around in the park. The sky was a soft baby blue with bright, puffy white clouds that showed their gray-lavender bellies to the world. The trees were orange, yellow, red, and brown with patches of green here and there. Children were laughing and shouting as they played in them.

"Fall's my favorite time of year," she said, "it reminds me of my childhood."

She spread her arms wide and began to spin around in the falling leaves. Unfortunately, she stumbled. Erik caught her a split second before she hit the ground.

They were closer than they had been last night. Erik's mouth couldn't have been more than an inch from hers. Her chocolate doe-eyes gazed up into his golden-green ones.

He held his breath for a moment, waiting for consent. Her eyes slid closed and her head tilted up towards his.

This one was a real kiss. Warmth spread through Erik's lips and fanned out all over his body. The wind picked up, swirling the leaves all around them. The scent of lavender perfume, coffee, and autumn mingled together. She tasted sweet, like blueberries, coffee, and sugar. When they parted, Erik's head was spinning. It had been as though the whole world had stopped its relentless turning just for a moment. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears.

A little girl with blue eyes and blonde braids looked at Erik and Christina with wide eyes. Then, she turned to her mother, a petite woman wearing jeans and a lime-green shirt.

"Mommy, is that what love looks like?" she asked anxiously. The woman took her hand and led her away.

"Yeah, sweetie, I suppose it does," she said, an obvious smile in her voice.

Christina was blushing brightly.

"You don't suppose that was a coincidence, do you?" she asked.

Erik had a sparkle in his eyes that she'd never seen before.

"No."

They kissed again.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I thank you all very much for my wonderful reviews

A/N: I thank you all very much for my wonderful reviews. Just thought I would caution you beforehand that this is a very dramatic chapter. Erik dealt with his past demons, but as we all know, present times have troubles all their own.

Erik: Sybl, what are you doing?! Don't you think that the purpose of writing a story is so that THEY can read it?!

Me: (pouts) I just didn't want them to get all shocked, even though they probably will be anyway.

Erik: (shakes head) After having seen my face, what else could possibly shock them?

Me: You have absolutely no idea.

Chapter 10

Erik didn't want to go home, but they'd stayed out all day and it was time. Her hand felt warm in his and they didn't say anything as she drove him home. The only goodbye that they shared was a light kiss and Erik watched the car pulling away. He looked at the empty driveway and wondered if she would ever park it there.

Maybe.

He walked around his house and tried to imagine Christina here in his house. Her curled up on the couch with a good book. Her sharing breakfast with him at his table before they both went to school. Her splashing around in the bathtub surrounded by bubbles.

He blushed furiously and tried to kick that thought out of his mind. That was a door he didn't want to open right now.

Her dancing for him on the porch. Her laying cuddled up in bed in Erik's arms. Her painting pictures in the music room while Erik played his organ. The two of them feasting on her brownies by the fireplace.

That one made him smile. It was beginning to get cool outside as November was setting in. He wondered just how many autumns he'd missed under the opera house. For him, the seasons hadn't really changed until know. The temperature might change a few degrees give or take, but the dungeons in the opera house were always damp and drafty.

He caught his reflection in a mirror. When he removed his mask, he realized that he'd gotten a small tan line. He was still relatively pale, but he wasn't dead-looking. The good food that the Angel had supplied him with had caused him to gain some healthy weight. His eyes held a light that he'd never seen before. The small town that was Roan Hills had nursed him back to health both physically and mentally. The rest of the weekend was spent busily writing music that had a soft, sweet sound.

Monday found Erik much too soon. He woke by himself, but he was still sleepy. Nevertheless, Erik got up and did everything just the way he usually did. He wasn't prepared for what he was about to face when he got there.

There were always students milling around outside at this time of morning. They all looked and acted normal, but a strange twinge in Erik's stomach warned him of what was to come. He looked from one face to another trying to decipher it. Having been mistrustful of people all of his life, Erik's sense of danger was highly sensitive.

He couldn't see anyone that could have set off his internal alarm, so he went inside. Just as he'd removed the keys from his pocket, someone slammed into him. He whirled around to see Victoria, who was crying hysterically. She tried to talk, but it came out in a sob. Erik calmly unlocked the door, led Victoria inside, and closed it.

"What is it?" he asked her.

She inhaled sharply and tried to compose herself enough to tell him.

"He's got a gun! He's going to be here any second!"

Erik placed both hands on her shoulders to steady her. She was trembling like a leaf.

"Who?"

Victoria dissolved into tears again. He had to hold her up to keep her from sagging to the floor.

"Victoria, this is important! Give me his name!" he demanded.

"D-David Mendoza!"

Erik gripped her by the elbow and was heading down the hallway. Victoria resisted him.

"Mr. Beaumont, please don't use my name! If he finds out it was me, he'll kill me!"

Erik was reluctant, but he let go of her. Victoria ran into the girls' bathroom, sobbing as though her heart would break. Without her, he could move faster. He had just told the principal when a loud bang that could only be a pistol resonated through the hallway.

Fear knotted in his stomach. He dashed outside as someone screamed. Not knowing what else to do, he ran straight for Christina's room.

A tall, thin boy with greasy dark hair and tattered-looking clothes stood in the hallway. He held the pistol in his right hand and two larger boys were standing on either side of him. They were right in the way. Erik's heart was beginning to thunder.

His mind began to race. He wasn't afraid for himself, but he was deathly afraid of Christina and Samantha being hurt.

"You don't have to do this," a voice begged. Brad stepped forward.

David leveled the gun right at his heart.

"What the hell do you know? You were my best friend until you got involved in the G D choir and that bitch Sam!"

Brad's face twisted in fury.

"Don't call her that!"

David pulled the trigger before Erik could react. Brad fell backwards, a couple of drops of blood hanging in the air for a split second.

"Shut up," David snapped.

He had the look of madness. The absolute cold fury in his face was almost frightening. Erik shuddered, remembering that he had once looked like that. He wondered what had happened to David to make him this way.

David was making his way towards Christina's classroom. Not knowing what else to do, Erik pulled the fire alarm. One of the boys ran away, but David shot him in the leg and he fell on his face.

"You freaking traitor!" David howled.

The other boy started to sneak away, but he was dead a split second later. The injured boy was laying very still, hoping that David wouldn't shoot him again. Erik took his chances and ran down the hallway, light-footed as a cat. He tackled David from behind.

"What the f?" David asked incredulously. Erik slammed his fist into the side of his head. In a effort to knock Erik loose, David flailed backwards and lost his grip on the gun. Erik kicked it away and hit him again. The boy wasn't badly hurt, but he was dazed.

Suddenly, he heard a clicking sound that froze his blood. Carefully raising up, he saw Victoria holding the gun.

"Put it down, Victoria," Erik warned.

But she didn't seem to see Erik. Her dark eyes seemed to look straight through him. She put the barrel of the gun against the side of David's head.

"Go ahead," David wailed, tears pouring out of his eyes, "I got nothin' to live for. I'm going to jail anyway!"

"You sick bastard! Go to Hell!" Victoria snarled.

She pulled the trigger. David jerked, then slumped forward. Victoria dropped the gun, then fainted. Erik let go of the still-warm body that was once David. Numbly, he turned Victoria over, then carried her over to lay her beside Brad.

"Mr. Beaumont," Brad gasped, "I can't breathe good."

"Stay there. I'll get help," Erik told him.

Christina emerged from the classroom. She smiled when she saw Erik, but went pale with shock upon seeing the bloody mess.

"Christina, stay with them!" Erik shouted, sprinting down the hallway.

A few minutes later, two police cars, a parade of ambulances, and a fire truck showed up. Samantha, in tears, was clutching Brad's hand in hers as they loaded him into the back of one of the ambulances. The other boy and Victoria were also taken to the hospital. Victoria had revived shortly after Erik had returned and was unharmed physically even though she'd probably suffered severe mental trauma and would need some counseling.

Christina buried her face in Erik's shoulder as they removed the two dead boys and a girl that had fallen victim to David. Erik felt sick inside, but he comforted Christina the best that he could. The shocked students didn't understand what was going on. Grief counselors were made available, the murder scene was investigated and cleaned up, and the high school students were sent home. Christina and Erik went to the hospital to visit the students that had been shot.

Brad was sleeping when they entered the room. Samantha had put down the railing on one side of his bed and sat there. She rested her head against his and was gently stroking his hair, tear tracks still visible on her face. Brad's parents were whispering to each other about the incident.

"They just took the bullet out a little while ago," Samantha croaked, her voice dry and scratchy from all the tears she'd cried, "he's sleeping off the anesthesia. It missed his heart by a couple of inches, but it will still take him a while to get better."

Erik didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Samantha carefully got off of the bed and hugged Christina tightly. Then, she hugged Erik, too.

Ordinarily, he would have stiffened and felt strangely about it, but his arms held as much strength right then as Samantha's did. Erik wondered why a full grown man could take such comfort in a child's embrace. Maybe it was because she didn't blame him for what happened.

"I'll tell him you came by," Brad's mother whispered.

Erik nodded and he and Christina left.

They decided to try and find Victoria, too. As luck would have it, Victoria was still there. She'd flung herself into Erik's arms the second he'd gotten close enough to her.

"Mr. Beaumont, I am in such deep s! They're gonna jail my scrawny butt, I just know it!" she wailed.

Erik felt a lump of unshed tears in his own throat. Part of him wondered exactly when he'd become so easily swayed by others' emotions. He eased himself out of her bone-crushing embrace so that he was looking her in the tear-stained face.

Victoria was an absolute wreck. Her normally white cheeks were stained blotchy red and her heavy eye makeup was running, causing black stripes on her face. She looked so broken, so helpless.

She looked the way he'd looked in the tunnel the night of the fire. Christina retrieved a wet paper towel and sponged away the crystal tears mixed with black makeup.

"Victoria, listen to me," Erik told her, easing her back onto her bed, "I swear to you that I won't let anything happen to you."

"But how?! You saw me kill David!" Her voice sounded like that of a mewling kitten.

The Phantom of the Opera began to emerge again, not as the monster, but the Angel of Music that could soothe and transfix the female soul with ease.

"Trust me," he said, barely above a whisper. His voice was husky from emotion, but it had the desired effect.

"Okay," Victoria sniffed.

Erik vaguely wondered just what he'd gotten himself into.

When they brought him in for questioning, Erik bent the details just enough that he couldn't call it an outright lie. He claimed that Victoria and David had been fighting over the gun (which they had, just not physically) when David caused Victoria to accidentally pull the trigger. Erik claimed that he'd been coming down the hallway when David had shot Brad and the two other boys. He admitted to having jumped on David and trying to pull the gun out of his grasp when Victoria had showed up. Since he believed he was telling the truth even though he was skating by on a technicality, the polygraph test came up "no deception detected". Victoria was not sent to prison, but she did have to attend regular counseling sessions. When everyone exited the courtroom, Victoria sent Erik the most grateful look he'd ever received. He'd kept his promise.

Erik was just grateful that the whole affair was over. By the time the matter of the shooting had begun to die down, it was almost Christmas.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Yeah, I know, that last chapter was really dramatic, but these things happen every single day

A/N: Yeah, I know, that last chapter was really dramatic, but these things happen every single day. If everything were perfect in Erik's world, we wouldn't want to read about him, would we? Anyway, to make up for the major shock of the last one…Oh, and the song that Erik sings is "Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts. Maybe somebody else sings it by now, I don't know. I'm not guaranteeing the lyrics, so there might be mistakes there by the way.

Erik: (coughs)

Me: Don't worry, I won't give it away, I promise. But I think you'll like this chapter.

Erik: They'd better after all you put me through the last time!

Me: …..didn't I just say I promise?

Erik: (sighs) Let's just get this moving. I have several other Phangirls to visit today and some of them get quite demanding when I am late. And the Opera Ghost has NEVER been late until YOU came along.

Me: Fine. Whatever. (starts typing)

Chapter 11

It had been very difficult to get the students to move on, but they had. Erik remained firm but fair in the way he ran his classroom. For several weeks now, he'd gotten back into his "drill-sergeant routine" and held extensive practices for a Christmas concert. One of the more difficult pieces had been "Carol of the Bells". Now, he was very proud of them.

"Very good," Erik complimented them during the last rehearsal before the concert, "go home and get some rest. We will be very busy tomorrow."

The stage had been decorated with Christmas lights and a Christmas tree. That had been Christina's doing with the Art Club. They had made some wonderful backdrops and Roan Hills was going to be in for a pleasant surprise.

"So, what do you think?" Christina called from the ladder she was standing on.

"It's wonderful," Erik commented as she was climbing down, "I can't wait to see it tomorrow night."

She was beaming from ear to ear.

"I just have one more thing to take care of and things will be all finished for Christmas Break," she said proudly.

"What is the 'one more thing'?" Erik asked.

"I need to do some Christmas shopping for Samantha. It's going to be her first real Christmas and I want it to be special. Her family never really got into Christmas and the only gifts she ever got were from her grandmother. Margie wants us to spend Christmas with her; I imagine it gets very lonely around this time of year."

Erik felt a pang of guilt as he helped Christina into her coat. He hadn't been over to visit Margie lately. In fact, he hadn't seen much of her at all. Maybe he'd just been too busy.

They got into Christina's car.

"I need to do some shopping as well," Erik blurted before he could stop himself. Christina smiled.

"All right."

Roan Hills looked like something out of a fairy tale. Christmas lights and decorations were all over the place. Christmas music was playing everywhere and snow was falling gently all around. It was beautiful. Erik vaguely wondered if Paris had looked like this.

His eyes shifted to Christina's foot on the gas pedal. Erik had a supernatural talent for measuring things and people because of growing up around costumes and having designed many of them as well as architecture. An idea graced his mind.

They entered the music shop first. While Christina was busy talking to one of the employees, Erik slipped out the back on the pretense that he had to use the restroom. The ballet studio was next door.

The woman who made the ballet uniforms didn't appreciate being walked in on during the fitting. After a profuse apology and a generous amount of cash, she produced a small cardboard box. Erik peeked inside and nodded. The woman went back to measuring the squirmy little girl that stood on the platform.

When Erik returned, Christina had chosen a package of five karaoke CD's for Samantha and a CD of violin music for Margie, explaining that the violin was Margie's favorite instrument to listen to. Several shops later, both of them got hungry and went to the Italian restaurant.

"Samantha's really come a long way," Christina commented as she twirled some of her spaghetti on her fork, "since she's met you, she's gained a lot of confidence."

"That's because I've pushed her," Erik said, spreading some butter on a roll, "the other teachers seem bored and apathetic at best with their jobs. I do not give up and I do not allow my students to do so, either."

Christina dabbed a drop of tomato sauce off of her chin.

"I see that. It's a very admirable trait. No one expected you to make it in such a small town," she confessed, "the others were convinced that you'd leave in a week."

Erik chuckled.

"They didn't know me very well. And they still don't."

He swallowed the bite only half-chewed when she said what she said next.

"You've come a long way, too, Erik."

The softness in her voice warmed him as she took his hand across the table.

"You were really mistrustful when I first met you. And you seemed like you were really struggling with something, but you've gotten so much more confident. And you've made such a difference in those kids' lives. Do you know that the absences have dropped for the kids in your class? They're passing everything else because they know you won't let them perform if they don't. The other teachers are really jealous."

Erik felt a slight blush grace his cheeks. He'd never felt like this before.

"I love you, Erik Beaumont."

Erik looked up at the waiter that was coming by.

"Check, please!"

They couldn't get out of the restaurant fast enough. But Erik didn't think any farther ahead. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her.

It seemed almost magical. Snow swirled all around them and the dimming gray sky made the Christmas lights glow all the brighter.

"I suppose we'd better finish our shopping before the stores close," Christina said breathlessly. They held hands as they walked down the sidewalk.

They returned to Erik's house weighted down with packages that were already wrapped.

"Goodness," Christine commented when the car went wiggling across the road, "the roads are icing over. I don't know if I should drive home just yet."

"I would drive if I had a car," Erik offered.

"That's sweet, but I'm sure I'll manage."

Erik shook his head.

"You will stay here. I won't have you risking your life," Erik objected.

Christine opened her mouth to protest, but when she didn't, Erik realized that she'd wanted to stay here all along.

"I need to tell Samantha I'm staying," she said, "can I use your phone?"

Erik was going to tell her that he didn't have one when he noticed a black cordless phone on one of the end tables by his couch. How in the world had that gotten there? He suspected that the Angel was behind this somehow. Christina picked it up and punched in the number. Meanwhile, Erik busied himself with the fireplace. Wood had also appeared in the wood box and he decided it would be nice to have a fire.

"Hey, Sam. No, I'm fine. I'm with Erik."

A pause.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. The roads got icy and they won't bring the snow plow in until tomorrow."

Another pause.

"Okay, but remember, I'm trusting you."

A pause.

"All right. Have fun. Bye."

The fire roared to life and Erik closed the glass doors.

"Sam invited Brad over and they're watching a movie together. I doubt that Brad would try to do anything since he's still recovering from that bullet wound, but you know how teenagers get sometimes. It's very easy to get caught up in one's emotions."

Erik was torn between laughing and wondering if she meant him, too. He chose neither. Instead, he rose from the hearth.

"Would you like some hot tea?" he asked her.

"That sounds wonderful."

He was going to ask her what kind she wanted, but she got up and went with him, unzipping her coat as she went with him. He took it and draped it over the back of a chair.

"You have a really nice house," Christina commented, "it has your personality in it."

She chose a raspberry tea. Erik chose a chamomile. Normally, chamomile wasn't strong enough for him, but it seemed right for right now. They clicked their mugs together as they sat at the small bar.

"I can't wait for the concert tomorrow night," she said before taking a drink, "Samantha's been talking about it all the time for days now."

"I can't wait, either. Roan Hills will finally recognize their talent."

When the tea had been drank, Erik left the mugs in the sink and he took her upstairs to the music room. She was fascinated by his ability to play the organ and begged him to play her something. He readily obliged and played the overture of an opera that he could no longer remember the name of. As the dark, mysterious notes of the organ echoed through the room, Christina almost seemed to go into a trance. It was a gift he had, but it was costly at times. But this time, he knew that Christina would love him without his "smoke and mirrors".

They were up in the music room for a very long time. Christina recognized a few of the pieces and sang along with them. There was one thing different: she sounded nothing like Christine. Christine's voice had been light, airy, ethereal. Christina's voice was strong, rich, and powerful although a bit unrefined. Erik didn't mind in the slightest. Her voice was very pleasant on the ears and he could have listened to her sing until the end of time.

When they descended back to reality, Erik looked at the small clock on the wall. It was one in the morning and they were both getting tired. Christina tried to stifle a yawn.

"Shall I show you to the guest room?" Erik asked. Christina nodded, looking like she was going to fall asleep in the chair. He opened the door first, then he scooped her up in his arms, cradle style. Her head nestled against his shoulder. Her hair was only an inch or two under his nose and he caught the scent of lavender plus whatever shampoo she used. He was vaguely reminded of when he'd shown Christine her wedding dress and she'd fainted, but that was then. This was now and Christina was still awake although barely.

With a little bit of difficulty, he managed to open the door without bumping her into anything. By now, Christina was definitely drifting off. He lay her on the baby-blue colored bed and covered her up with a brightly colored quilt. She mumbled something and he felt her presence leaving the room for the dream world.

"Goodnight, my angel," he whispered, kissing her on the cheek. A tiny smile graced her lips and Erik's heart melted. Very quietly, he left the room and closed the door.

Normally, the Angel of Music would have made an appearance around this time, but Erik was surprised when it didn't show up. He shrugged and went to his own room to change his clothes. Sliding beneath the covers, Erik had never felt more contented.

He woke up halfway when he felt someone get into the bed beside him.

"Erik, the power's gone out and it's freezing. Can I stay here with you?" Christina's voice whispered in his ear. He mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over so that she had enough room. She took that as a sign of consent and huddled up next to him. Erik wrapped his arms around her and his chin rested on top of her curls. Slowly, his body heat warmed her and she stopped shivering. Both of them went back to sleep.

The Angel of Music, grinning, stood by the open fuse box in the kitchen. Knowing that it had done its job, it flipped the switch back on, closed the door, and disappeared.

The next morning, Christina woke first. She wondered at first where she was, then she felt a pair of arms around her. It was Erik. It was the first time she'd gotten a good look at him without his mask.

The side of his face that was normal was anything but. That side of his face was absolutely beautiful, his skin was like white marble. His dark brown hair was soft and shiny, just touching the nape of his neck. A stray strand rested on his smooth cheek and she gently brushed it back. The rest of his hair was spread out around his face like a dark halo.

The deformed side of his face was dark red. The skin was stretched so thin over his cheekbone and skull that she could see the outlines of the bone through it. The muscles and bones had been warped there, probably at some point in the womb. A small chunk of his nose on that side was missing, the nostril dilated much larger than the one on the other side. The eyelid drooped slightly when it was open, but it wasn't noticeable until one got this close. Christina's fingertips gently stroked the paper-thin skin, her heart aching for Erik. He slept on, unaware of how closely she studied him.

Could she live with this face forever? Her stomach had cringed when she'd seen his deformity at first and she'd been a little nervous about facing him afterwards, but she knew that no matter what his face looked like, she loved him and would get accustomed to it in time.

Erik was beautiful, she knew, no matter what.

She'd known that she loved him since the day he'd left the charm bracelet for her. The chemistry between them had been strong enough that she suspected something, so she'd done some innocent flirting, like laying her head on his shoulder when she'd gotten tired. Now, since yesterday, she was sure he loved her, too.

It did bother her just a little bit that he hadn't said the words. Then again, she didn't know what his past had been like with the hand-sized distortion of his face. Maybe he knew, maybe he did feel it. Maybe he simply didn't know how to express it.

Her introspection was cut short when she realized she really needed to use the bathroom. Very carefully, she disentangled herself from Erik's embrace and went into his.

The bathroom was much larger than Christina had ever imagined. The colors were red, gold, and black. She only intended to use the toilet at first, then go back into the bed with Erik, but the old-fashioned clawfoot tub caught her attention. She couldn't help but hop in and take a nice, leisurely bath. She also couldn't help opening the bottles of soap and shampoo and inhaling the scent deeply. So this was why he always smelled good!

When she emerged feeling nice and clean, Erik's bed was empty and the covers had been straightened up. The smell of food wafted through the door and her stomach gave a loud rumble. Her earlier nervousness was gone and she bounded down the stairs like a little girl.

The radio was playing in the kitchen. Erik had changed his clothes and his messy hair had been combed neatly back. She wasn't used to seeing him in casual clothes. The Phantom of the Opera was wearing jeans and a dark-blue T-shirt.

Erik heard her enter the room and turned around. His cheeks were rosy like a little boy's. He'd been standing at the stove. The smell of eggs and cheese made her stomach rumble again.

"You've been using my things," he commented, after he'd kissed her and smelled his own soap on her. She grinned guiltily, a blush rising in her cheeks. He laughed a little and she knew he didn't mind. He led her to the table and pulled her chair out for her. Not used to this kind of treatment, her heart fluttered and she sat down. The song on the radio was "Bubbly" by Colbie Callait.

Erik stirred something in a cup and placed it on the table in front of her. Coffee. She took a sip and realized that Erik had memorized the exact amount of cream and sugar that she put in it most of the time. The thought warmed her insides more than the drink did.

"Your breakfast, my lady," Erik said, placing a plate before her. He had made omelets. This one looked even better than a restaurant one. He had also placed a couple of slices of toast at the edge of the plate. She grabbed her fork and dug in.

"You can cook for me anytime you want," she said around a mouthful. Erik turned the stove off and sat down with his own plate. It made him feel good to be so appreciated.

"Where did you learn how to cook?" she asked when she'd completely cleaned her plate.

"I taught myself," Erik said, "I also spied on the cook and wrote down what he did. It took me several tries to keep from burning things, but I had to learn. I had no one to help me, so I learned how to fend for myself."

A tinge of sadness flicked across his features for a moment, but it didn't last long. Christina let out a little burp and blushed brightly with embarrassment. Erik grinned to himself as he washed the dishes. She was cute sometimes.

Not wanting to sit around while Erik did all the work, Christine picked up a dish towel and dried the dishes. She didn't know where they all went, so she had to let Erik put them away while she wiped off the table and counters. The job went much faster when two people were working on it.

"Erik, I have a feeling that we should pay Margie a visit. I haven't heard from her recently, and I've been wondering if she's all right," Christina confessed. He finished putting away the plates and went to retrieve their coats.

Upon going outside, Christina discovered that the roads had been plowed early this morning. The sun was shining, but it was too cold to melt the snow. The misty yellow light glittered off of everything. Her breath escaped in a cloud of steam and she once again believed in magic. Erik's warm hand held her gloved one as they went through the gate and onto Margie's porch. Christina rang the doorbell, praying that nothing bad had happened to Margie.

The door creaked open after about thirty seconds and Margie, still clad in a fluffy pink robe and matching slippers, let them in.

"Erik! Christina!"

She hugged them as though they were never coming back and grinned at them both.

"I was hoping you'd find some time to keep an old lady company! What have you both been up to?"

Erik reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of the programs he'd had printed up for tonight's concert.

"Margie, I would like to invite you to tonight's concert," he said, giving her the small paper booklet.

"Oh, that sounds heavenly! I've been dying for a chance to get out of this old house!"

She scanned through it for a moment, then motioned them to come into the living room.

"I've been feeling a little under the weather recently, but I'm getting better and I'm tired of seeing nothing but these walls," she confessed, "I do respect doctors, but I think they worry too much. My mother lived to be ninety-two years old and she only went to the doctor twice in her life. Once, she broke her arm after falling out of a tree as a child, and when she was carrying me. Nowadays, it's cholesterol this and triglycerides that and if you get one sniffle, they watch you like a hawk! Sounds like the world has a fear of getting old!"

Erik couldn't help but chuckle at her tone.

"So, the two of you have finally seen the light, have you? I know that the rosy in your cheeks didn't just come from the cold!"

Christina scooted closer to Erik on the squashy old couch and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"You don't miss a thing, do you Margie?" Christina asked.

"Of course not, dear. When you're as old as I am, you know a good match when you see it. Samantha and I have been planning your wedding from day one."

At the mention of a wedding, Erik's omelet did a flip in his stomach and he flushed scarlet. Christina was equally as red, but she was laughing.

"We'll see, Margie."

Margie grinned, the grin that the Angel often had. The grin that she knew something they didn't.

"Just don't wait too long, dear, I'd like to see it before they wheel me off to the local nursing home."

More nervous laughter. Erik was beginning to feel like a child.

"Could I ask your help with something?" Margie asked, "Having felt lower than a snake's belly as of late, I didn't have time to decorate my house. Could you help an old woman out?"

Erik had no idea what he'd gotten himself into when he and Christine volunteered to do it. Christine got the easy job of finding the artificial tree in the attic while he had yards of lights to untangle. Decorating the tree was fairly easy, but putting the lights in the trees and on the roof were not. Erik wasn't afraid of heights in the slightest, but the rafters in the opera house had not been covered in ice. He'd slipped out of the tree at least once and landed on his butt. Luckily, no serious damage was done. He was more embarrassed than bruised.

As a reward for working all morning and most of the afternoon, Margie rewarded them with two steaming mugs of apple cider and a plateful of gingerbread men. When all the cookies had been eaten and the cider mugs were empty, Christina jumped when the old grandfather clock chimed loudly in the hallway.

"Oh, my goodness! Erik, we have to get ready for the concert! Margie, do you want to come to my house?"

Margie gathered up her things and followed Christina out to the car. She still had her hair in curlers and was the perfect picture of a grandma.

"We'll meet you at school, Erik!" Christina called over her shoulder. He gave her a wave to acknowledge that he'd heard her and dashed upstairs to his room.

Upon arriving, Erik had never seen such a crowd. He was willing to bet that most of the town had come tonight. The small school auditorium was packed and there was standing room only. He walked past it and went into the choir room.

The robes that they'd fished out of storage and sent to the cleaners had held up really well considering their age. Everyone was doing last-minute adjustments on hair and makeup; a few were sipping hot tea or water to help their voices. As soon as Erik arrived, he was ambushed with questions. Patiently, he answered all of them one by one, then he had them do a couple of vocal exercises to warm up their voices. Satisfied that everything was ready, he sent them to the stage and took his place at the base of the stage with his music stand. This way, he wouldn't be in the way and everyone could see them more.

Maybe it was the mood that the colorful Christmas lights gave off. Maybe it was just the night. Maybe it was just because he'd been in an exceptionally good mood all day, but the rising and falling voices had almost a magical quality. He glanced over his shoulder between songs and noticed that a few people were sniffling. He hoped it wasn't because of the flu and kept going.

When each song was over, there was thunderous applause. Ramona, the accompanist he'd hired from a local church, was also very gifted. He thought it was a shame that she was about forty years too old to be in high school and wished that he could keep her around for his class. But she had a full-time job at the church as it was. He thanked her when it was over and she told him she'd play for him anytime he wanted.

Gradually, the crowds left and the students did, too. Erik stood alone on the empty stage, the Christmas lights still lit. He remembered the night that he and Christine had sang "Point of No Return", but it didn't break his heart the way it used to. Instead, he sang another song, thinking that he was the only one still there.

"...they were like Northern stars, pointing me on my way into your loving arms, and I know it's true...that God blessed the broken road that lead me straight to you..."

He couldn't remember all of the lyrics or even if he had them in the correct order, but it didn't really matter.

Then, he realized that he wasn't alone when a soft harmony joined him. In the sweet hazy glow of the lights, Christina stepped out from behind a curtain. The song ceased as he took her into his arms.

"Things went very well tonight," Christina commented, "you have a gift, Erik Beaumont."

He was too busy drinking in the moment to reply.

"So, uh, have you given any thought to what Margie said?"

Erik thought about playing dumb, but he knew better.

"I have," he admitted.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure against his thigh that hadn't been there before. He slid his hand into his pocket to try and figure out what it was when his fingers encountered a ring box. His heart jumped into his throat.

"I wonder how it is that Margie seems to always know," Christina commented, looking into his green-amber eyes with her dark chocolate ones, "she's been like my guardian angel. Sometimes I could swear that the woman tucks her wings into those old ratty robes she wears."

Erik chuckled.

"Well, we mustn't disappoint her," he said, holding up the ring box, "she'd never let me hear the end of it."

Realization struck Christine as Erik dropped to one knee. Behind the curtain, he could hear some chuckling and he knew that they were far from alone.

"Christina Bunn, will you marry me?"

He flipped the lid open to the box to reveal a simple silver band with a sapphire stone. Blue was Christina's favorite color.

"Of course I will," she whispered.

Thank goodness. He'd heard about women's hysterical reactions and it frightened him to think that she might be that way. Her reaction had been calm just like she always was.

Erik took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto her finger. Someone hit the switch and the main lights of the auditorium came on. Many of the choir students came running out onto the stage.

"Yo, man, it's about time! We was wondering!" Keith laughed, slapping Erik a high-five.

"Christina Beaumont. It has a nice ring to it," Brad announced.

Samantha just squealed and hugged Erik until he was sure she'd cut off his circulation. Then, she hugged Christina the same way.

"Wonders never cease."

Erik turned his head to see Victoria. His jaw dropped open.

Her piercings and strangely colored hair were gone. Instead, she wore only one pair of earrings and her hair had been dyed all-black and was curled. Her bright green eyes shone with only a modest amount of makeup and she wore a lacy white dress under her red choir robe.

"What happened to you?" he asked bluntly, taken by surprise.

"After the David incident, I realized that my life was pretty good. So I cut the crap and got rid of all my emo stuff."

He had been wondering who this girl was throughout the whole concert. Her voice held hope instead of darkness. Her cheeks held a healthy flush and she'd gained some healthy weight and no longer looked emaciated.

"You look wonderful," he confessed.

"Thanks."

"We're all goin' to Hank's, you wanna go?" Keith asked.

Hank's was a small restaurant that was downtown. Erik had heard it was a popular teen hangout. At first, he thought against it, but their eyes pleaded with him to go. Erik had become a member of their unusual family with its strange rules.

"Let's go," he gave in.

They all stayed out until it was obscenely late. Britney's parents owned Hank's and had let them have all the ice cream that they could possibly eat. At two in the morning, they had all waddled out with distended stomachs with the taste of root beer floats still in their mouths. Christina had whispered that she'd come and find him tomorrow after she dropped him off.

"Well?" Erik asked as the Angel appeared, sitting cross-legged on his bed that night.

"I think you know," the Angel responded smugly, "you've finally learned what it means to be an Angel of Music, at least to this place."

The Angel held out its hand and Erik clasped it in a moment of mutual understanding. The Angel was congratulating him.

"Thank you for the ring," Erik said, grinning ear-to-ear, "I couldn't have asked for a better time."

The Angel gave a nod.

"Just keep in mind that you're still going to have conflicts to be worked out," he reminded Erik, "no world is perfect. But you've come a long way. You're no longer the Angel in Hell."

With that, it disappeared. It would be the last time that Erik ever saw the Angel.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I was suffering from this hot, humid July weather, so I gave you guys Christmas in the middle of summer

A/N: I was suffering from this hot, humid July weather, so I gave you guys Christmas in the middle of summer. I couldn't resist. I'm sure that you've all noticed, that after a rough beginning, that our sweet little Erik is turning into a big teddy bear. I do believe he's taken a liking to our world.

Erik: (sips on a soda with one hand and uses video game controller with the other) It's not so bad. I think. Hmmm. I got high score.

Me: (rolls eyes) Never introduce the Phantom to a video game. He gets addicted rather easily. Anyway, I had some time off, so I thought I would make up for the two months that I didn't update. I hope you all like it.

Erik: (looks up from game) They should. You're finally giving them what they've asked for.

Me: (snatches soda and takes a drink) No thanks to my muse that left me in the middle of the night!

Erik: (pouts) I have to go where I'm called, remember?

Me: (sighs) Yeah, I know. What would Phanfictions be without an Erik muse? I tried working with the Leroux version, but he scares me just a little. At least you get in the spirit of things and play with my computer, my video games, and my iPod. He just sits in the darkest corner of the room and stares at me like I've violated him and he's planning to kill me in my sleep.

Erik: (raises eyebrow) We're not that different, believe it or not. The Leroux version of me is just a bit more old-fashioned. He'll come around after a few more Phangirls get a hold of him.

Me: I hope so. (Begins typing).

Chapter 12

Erik was woken on Christmas Eve by a noise downstairs. He heard a bumping sound, then a flurry of whispers. He paused at the door, listening. He heard a giggle that sounded vaguely like Samantha's. Then a shushing sound that resembled Margie. Then several other voices that were whispering. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but they were all familiar. He wondered what on earth they were all doing down there and how they'd gotten in here in the first place. Erik put his mask on and ran a comb through his hair before going downstairs, still half-asleep. The sight that met him when he arrived there was enough to wake him fully. The surprise was evident on Erik's face.

"Morning, Mr. Beaumont! Sorry if we woke you. Bobby had a clumsy streak and dropped the lights," Samantha said.

The boy in question gave a shy nod. He never spoke much in class, but he had a rich, full bass voice when he did open his mouth.

All around Erik, there were Christmas decorations and students working on them. Ashley and Britney were adjusting the decorations on the tree. Samantha, Keith, and Brad were hanging lights. Margie had filled the table with homemade treats in baskets decorated with ribbons. A few others were putting lights up outside. And Christina stood right in the middle of them all.

"How did all of you get in here?" was all Erik could stutter out.

Christina grinned impishly and held up a key.

"You really should find a better place for your spare," she laughed, "under the doormat is such an old trick. Everybody knows that it will be there."

"We've all been alone on Christmas at one time or another," Victoria announced, "we didn't want someone else to have the same problem."

Erik had been alone many, many Christmases, but he wondered why someone would leave these kids.

"I'll be alone this time," Victoria said, "my Dad's out of town on business and my mom left when I was three. Dad figures I'm old enough to handle it on my own."

"I am, too," Keith sighed, "nobody wanted me around. They said I was too much trouble. They're being whack. Just because I didn't do a good job baby-sitting my cousins last year while everyone else went out drinking."

"An old woman like me needs all the company she can get," Margie chimed in.

More stories of unfortunate timings and cruel relatives filled Erik's brain. No wonder teenagers were the way they were. Against his better judgment, he was getting ideas.

"All of you may stay here," he announced, "as long as you treat my home with respect."

Cheers erupted throughout the room and everyone but Christina went tearing off to their own houses to get their gifts and their sleeping bags. It was decided that Margie and Christina could have the two guest rooms.

"What am I getting myself into?" Erik asked Christina as they rearranged the living room furniture so that there was more floor space.

"That was really sweet of you, Erik," Christina said, giving him a heart-melting smile, "I have an idea. Since we've got quite a bit of guests, would you like me to do some last minute Christmas shopping?"

He ran upstairs, got his wallet, and handed Christina the money. She took off just as Margie came in with an overnight bag.

"Young man, you have a very large generous streak in you," she commented as Erik took her upstairs to show her the first guest room.

"I wouldn't have it without you," Erik said truthfully. He placed her bag at the foot of the bed, then showed her where the other bathroom was. Then, he left her to get settled in and got dressed. He continued to ask himself over and over why he'd just invited a large number of teenagers to stay in his house, but he knew in his heart that he couldn't stomach the thought of them being alone on a holiday. He'd gotten quite attached to all of them in one way or another. Even though the Angel of Music had made no more appearances recently, he could feel it smiling at him. Yes, the Angel would always be with him no matter what.

After he'd gotten dressed, Erik relished what would be his last few minutes alone for the next forty-eight hours. He plucked one of the chocolate-chip cookies from one of Margie's baskets and chewed on it while leaning against the counter. Margie certainly had a way with sweets.

Everyone began to return shortly after that. The living room filled up with sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets as well as various other personal belongings. Samantha was carrying a large stack of slender boxes.

"I figured we'd be up for a while, so I rented some movies," she said, placing them beside the TV. Everyone was talking at once. An electric guitar also appeared from the hodgepodge of things. Soon, there were people everywhere running upstairs and down, exploring things. Erik went outside to see what they'd done to the yard. It was hard to see right now, but he could tell there were a lot of lights because they glittered off the porch, trees, and fence.

Christina's car pulled up after a couple of hours. She frantically made a "distract them" gesture before getting out of the car. Erik called everybody into the kitchen and they helped themselves to Margie's snacks while Christine ran upstairs, the front of her coat bulging. Erik resisted the urge to laugh. He slipped away from the group to find Christina in the blue room.

"I did it," she announced, "just before the shops closed. They all already know we're engaged anyway, so I just put on the gifts that they're from all of us. Is that okay?"

"It's fine."

He kissed her.

"That was a very sweet thing you did," Christina whispered, "these kids will love you forever. I thought about doing it one year, but my house isn't big enough."

Erik's anxiety began to fade as he savored her embrace.

"Tonight, when they're all asleep, we'll put them under the tree," she whispered.

Loud laughter was heard downstairs.

"We should probably get back down there," she laughed, "I have no idea what they're up to."

Erik couldn't help but steal one more kiss from her before they descended the stairs together.

"What is going on down here?" he asked.

Keith and Brad were hanging onto each other, their laughter spilling out. Victoria and Samantha were almost in tears because they were laughing so hard. Margie looked like the cat that ate the canary. Bobby was in the floor because his legs had given out on him.

"Margie?" Erik questioned.

"I was just telling them the story of my first Christmas pageant," she said, "they got a kick out of it."

Erik sat down on one of the bar stools, waiting for her to go on.

"I was seven years old. I was very upset because I wanted to play Mary and ended up being a donkey. So before the pageant started, I waxed the stage. Thelma, the girl who was supposed to play Mary, went to get on the stage and she went _zing_ right off the edge of it. It didn't hurt her, but she landed on her fanny in the mud. Throughout the rest of the pageant, everybody kept slip-sliding all over the place."

Erik couldn't help but grin. He'd pulled a similar prank in his youth.

They went into the living room, snacks and all. Instead of sitting on the couches, everyone piled into the floor.

"What about you, Erik? Did you ever play a trick like that?" Christina asked, knowing full well from his impish grin that he had. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"I have actually done quite a few of them in my time," Erik said, easing into his favorite chair, "I grew up in a music academy."

He wasn't exactly lying; ballerinas and singers-in-training came there often. He didn't want to mention being in the opera house too much because he was afraid one of them would make the connection.

"So what did you do?" Samantha pressed.

Erik leaned his chair back.

"The question was what didn't I do," he replied, "my most famous trick was on an older woman named Carlotta. She used this spray on her throat on a regular basis. No one really liked her voice, she was loud and abrasive and past her prime anyway. So I tampered with it. It made her croak like a frog."

"Just like on the Phantom of the Opera!" Samantha chimed in. Erik cringed inwardly. Everyone else was laughing.

"I drew quite a bit of my inspiration from that old story," Erik said, trying not to give away his discomfort, "my mother did not care for me. She named me after the Phantom because we resemble each other so closely."

The story spun itself in his brain so rapidly that Erik could hardly even tell himself whether or not he was truly lying.

"At first, I was very insulted," he admitted, "but it gave me many ideas. I became the music school's Phantom."

No one objected or interrupted. No one claimed that he was lying. They were all listening with great interest.

"When I was very young, my mother sold me to a band of traveling gypsies. They managed to get around the law and keep me as their prized freak show. I escaped when I was twelve, then a kindly woman named Antoinette brought me to the school. We became fast friends and she fed me until I learned how to fend for myself."

"How did you become a teacher?" Margie asked, a look of sympathy etched into her lined face.

"I decided that I was tired of hiding. I had spent some time in Persia and my face was much easier to hide that way, but I knew I couldn't hide forever. When I returned, things had changed quite a bit. There was a woman that I'd fallen in love with, but she chose another. I had to leave the school because the memory was painful. I had never officially attended school although I knew very well how to read and write from watching the others. A very good friend of mine pulled some strings and got me this teaching job and this house. I will forever be in their debt. At first, I was not at all happy about it, but my friend had done too much for me to be ungrateful."

"And that's where we all came in," Brad commented, "I appreciate you not busting us for the water balloons."

Erik folded his arms, but he was still grinning.

"Just remember, _Bradley_, that I could have made your life a living Hell."

"Didn't you?" Victoria teased. Everyone was laughing.

"Believe me, that was me being nice," Erik warned them.

They began to tell Christmas stories after that. Erik had a very amusing time picturing the adolescents in the room as young children. They were all amused by how Brad had eaten too much fruitcake when he was five on a dare and had to be taken to the hospital, how Victoria had been afraid Santa Clause wouldn't visit her because she'd gotten hungry and eaten all the cookies, how Keith wrote about twenty letters asking Santa Clause for a drum set because he was afraid they'd get lost in the mail, and how Samantha had climbed onto the roof with a ladder because she wanted to see Santa Clause's sleigh. Margie talked about having gone sledding on the hills and ice skating. Christina talked about how she'd wanted a kitten but had never gotten one. Her mother had been allergic to cats, so she wasn't able to have a cat.

It grew dark soon. Christina ordered a tall stack of pizzas so that they would be able to eat off of them and not have any dishes to do. Once everyone was situated in the floor, Samantha put the movies in. Most of them were slightly older movies, but she insisted that Erik must see all of them. Some of the ones on the list included the Pirates of the Caribbean and the Harry Potter series. It was very late before the movies ran out.

"Hey, Mr. Beaumont, we heard you play violin," Victoria commented, "can you play something for us?"

After a lot of begging, Erik went upstairs and retrieved his violin. The main lights were switched off so that only the Christmas lights were glowing. Everyone went silent as Erik, bathed in the glow from the Christmas tree, drew his bow across the strings. The notes rose and fell softly as he played a tune he'd taken a liking to just recently: My Immortal by Evanescence. Slowly, the voices began to rise with the violin and sing in harmony. Erik was surprised: they had never done this song together before and everyone sounded wonderful. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Christina holding a camcorder.

Gradually, the voices fell silent. They all moved from sitting positions to laying positions. Gradually, they all dropped off to sleep. The glow illuminated their faces and made them all look angelic. Erik made sure to ease the volume of his playing so that the sudden silence wouldn't wake them. Then, he, Margie, and Christina crept upstairs to retrieve the presents. Very carefully, they formed an assembly line. Christina went upstairs and retrieved the gifts, piling them at the top of the stairs. She would then stand between the pile and Margie, who was halfway down the stairs, and hand them to her. Erik, who was very light on his feet and could walk without making any noise, would retrieve them from Margie and slide them under the tree. He had five or six teenagers to step over and it got a little bit difficult after Samantha and Brad were cuddled up together. Soon, however, everything was put away and the three adults could go to bed.

Erik lay stretched out in his bed. The sleepiness that filled him wasn't exhaustion; it was a sweet kind of sleepiness that made him feel like a cat. His eyes closed and he had a dream about his mother, whom upon waking, he could not remember.

The next morning, despite his very late night, Erik was wide awake and in a very good mood. The smell of pancakes filled his nose and he could hear Christina and Margie chattering excitedly. Most of the teenagers were still asleep.

"Coffee?" Margie asked. She placed a steaming mug into his hands. Christina flipped one of the pancakes, sending it several feet in the air before she caught it with the frying pan.

"My dad taught me that," she said at Erik's impressed look. Behind her, several plates stood stacked with pancakes. Each one was buttered lavishly before the next cake was piled on top of it.

"Breakfast is almost ready," she told Erik, "it's your job to go in there and wake them up."

Erik went upstairs and retrieved his violin. He started out with a gentle tune, but when nobody responded, he immediately launched into a loud and lively tune.

"What time is it?" Victoria groaned.

Brad was the quickest to move.

"I smell pancakes!"

He was out of his sleeping bag and into the kitchen in a flash. Samantha, aware that her arms were empty, followed. Keith dragged in behind her. Britney and Ashley followed, trying to brush their wild hair out, and Bobby came in behind them. The table was absolutely full, so the three adults sat at the bar.

"This beats the s-" Brad paused when Christina gave him a patented "Look", "...stuffing...out of being alone for Christmas."

Erik couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. Apparently, swearing had been a bad habit of Brad's that Christina didn't like.

"I did not know you could cook," Keith admitted, looking up at Christina.

"Everybody assumes that teachers don't do anything else," Christina answered, "one of my hobbies besides art is cooking."

"Which is good," Samantha admitted, "I couldn't fry an egg."

The teens were reluctant, but they did help Christina and Erik do the dishes. Margie cleared off the table.

"I want all of you to go into the living room," she said, "and check under the tree. I'll be in here cooking Christmas dinner."

Everyone thundered into the living room and started grabbing things from under the tree. A loud violin note froze them in place.

"Everyone sit!" Erik said firmly, not wanting them to knock the tree over. They did, muttering that they weren't children.

"Yes, you are," he retorted, "enjoy it while you still have it."

More muttering. He began to pull the gifts out from under the tree and Christina helped him pass them out. They dragged Margie out of the kitchen so that she could have her gifts. Once everyone was sitting down and the camcorder was filming from the mantle, Brad said, "One...two...three...rip!"

Everyone tore into their presents. There were exclamations of delight and no one complained or looked unappreciative at all. Maybe they really liked what they received or they had better manners than Erik had given them credit for. He received a thick book of music for his organ, a framed sketch of all of them at the contest, some blank-staffed sheets to write his music on, and a basket of cookies (from Margie) that were all musical designs in one way or another. Samantha came through the din of paper being shredded to hand him a small black and red box.

"I hope you don't take it as an insult, because that's not the way we mean it, but you really do remind us of the Phantom of the Opera the way you sing and the way you do things," she said, "I found this yesterday and I hope you like it because it reminds me of you."

Erik opened the top of the box and shook it a little until the gift within slipped into his other open palm. It was a small water globe that had a music box in the bottom. He wound up the key and the soft notes of "Think Of Me" chimed out. Within the water globe, there was a small figure that looked remarkably like him, complete with the mask on, that was holding a Christine figure that looked remarkably like Christina in his arms. Tiny Christine was leaning into the tiny phantom with her eyes closed and a heavenly smile on her face. In her right hand, she clutched an impossibly little rose that looked as though it were made out of glass. It was the most beautiful thing Erik had ever seen. When he gently shook the globe, swirls of iridescent glitter rose and surrounded the two figures. And, ironically enough, tiny Christine was wearing a white dress. It was enough to get Erik a little choked up.

"Thank you," he managed to tell her. Seeing that it did not insult him, in fact, had the exact opposite effect, she smiled warmly and returned to Brad's side.

Erik needed to give Christina her present. She'd already gotten a large number of art supplies and was sifting through them, thinking of projects that she would create. Erik knelt next to her chair and gave her the box he'd smuggled down here this morning. Christina didn't take very long unwrapping it and clamped both hands over her mouth to contain an excited squeal when she discovered the ballet slippers.

"May I?" Erik asked. She nodded, still breathless. Very gently, he removed her plain house slippers and slid the white, satiny things on. Having seen Meg and Christine do it so often, he laced them up with nimble hands. They were a perfect fit. Christina felt like Cinderella.

"Try them out," he suggested.

She stretched, then stood on her tiptoes. They gave her a grace and a confidence that she held inside but didn't always show. She did a leap, and then a little spin for everyone. Erik retrieved his violin again and the notes of "Think of Me" began to fill the room.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye," Samantha sang.

"Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try," Victoria sang.

"On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free," the boys joined in.

"If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!" everyone sang. The song began to build. Brad got his electric guitar out and began to add to it. Erik would never have combined an electric guitar and a violin on his own, but together, they sounded quite good. Christina was dancing as though she were onstage.

It was then that Erik understood what the meaning of Christmas was. It was right here with music and happiness all around and a strange joy that he'd never had before rising up with his violin notes.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, but I have the class schedule from Hell this year and I've just got a lot on my plate

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, but I have the class schedule from Hell this year and I've just got a lot on my plate. I didn't forget you guys, though, and I appreciate all the reviews that are still coming through for this one, Thunder and Roses, and To Be Loved By You. It makes me smile anytime I open my e-mails and see "Review Alert" in the subject line. Who knew we'd make it this far? I might have another fanfiction in the works along the line of "Ghost Rider" as soon as I get an idea of what I want to write about, too, so keep a lookout for that one.

Erik: glares menacingly You are not moving Blackheart in here with me. It's bad enough that I have to step over all of your clothes, books, and shoes without a demon lurking around.

Me: sighs Erik, he's going to be here any day. I'm sure he's not that thrilled about you being here, either. I have to work on getting bunk beds or something, I swear.

phone rings

Me: Hello? Yeah. Yeah, you can move in anytime you want. No, I don't think that'll be a problem. Just don't freeze any of my friends because I'd rather keep them alive. pause Yeah, you can go fight the Ghost Rider at night. Just make sure the fight never ends up here. Yeah. Okay. Bye.

Erik: (sighs discontentedly) Well?

Me: He'll be here tomorrow.

Erik: (plays menacing chord on the organ stuffed into the corner of the room)

Me: (laughs) On with the story.

Chapter 13

As a sharp contrast to Christmas, Erik spent New Year's with Christina. For Christmas, she'd given him a portrait sketch that was a perfect likeness. Erik had it framed and hung it over the fireplace where everyone who came into his home would see it. Winter vacation ended on the second week of January. The students weren't real thrilled with their holiday being over, but Erik was secretly glad. He loved all the time he'd gotten to spend with Margie and Christina, but he was glad to be back to "the routine". Not having something on his agenda every day made him feel out of balance for some strange reason.

Monday came much too soon for everyone else. A wave of sleepy teenagers that were still drinking coffee came in only seconds before the late bell rang. Erik was waiting expectantly at the front of the class. Despite his stern expression, there was a twinkle in his green-gold eyes that told them he was glad they'd all come back. He had them all do a series of vocal exercises to get their cords stretched, then they did a few "review" songs. Towards the end of the class, ideas for the spring show were tossed around. They only had two more shows to do: the spring show, then the summer show (which would happen the week school let out). Erik was confident in his abilities to organize those events, but he ran into a major problem: the girls wanted to dance. Erik knew only of ballet dances and slow-dancing. He had no experience with the modern-day dances and had no earthly idea how to remedy that situation.

As usual, the answer didn't take long. While he was staring off into space in the hallway, Christina passed him. Then, the idea struck him like a lightning bolt.

"Christina!"

She turned around, shifting uncomfortably under the pile of art supplies she was carrying. Erik lifted it out of her arms and carried it for her.

"You look like you're up to something," she commented, seeing the patented 'Opera Ghost' look that Erik often had while watching ballerinas up in the rafters.

"I am," he admitted, "I need your help with something."

He put the large cardboard box he'd been carrying for her on one of the tables. She heard his stomach rumble and retrieved the sandwiches she'd picked up for them earlier.

"I'm listening," she said, unwrapping hers.

"I have plans for the music and everything else, but some of the girls want to dance. I haven't the slightest clue how to work with them," Erik confessed, "and you dance. Would you mind helping them?"

Christina chewed on both the bite of sandwich she'd taken and the idea for a moment. Erik knew that she wouldn't leave her classes unattended, but he was prepared for that. As soon as the look of objection crossed her face, he intercepted her.

"I know that you have your own classes to attend to, but you could have your students sketch my students," he suggested, "we could use the pictures for the programs and posters."

Christina looked visibly impressed with that idea.

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" she asked as Erik took a bite out of his own sandwich. He nodded.

"All right. We just need to run this idea by Annette, but I don't see any reason why she should object to it," she said.

Surely enough, the principal cleared the idea. The choir room was more than big enough for both sets of classes and the ones who wanted to paint could set up their easels and spread out some newspapers. Beanbag chairs were borrowed from the library and also put in the room. The chairs were rearranged so that there was space to dance in without having to put all the chairs back at the end.

"That was simple," Erik said, examining the rearranged room.

"There's just one thing you haven't thought of," Christina said, grinning like a schoolgirl. Erik gave her a questioning look as he leaned against his desk.

"As soon as I figure out the dances, you have to learn them, too."

That got Erik's attention.

"What?"

"For the classes where we'll have boy-girl partners. You have to learn so you can teach the boy's part. It's not fair for me to have to do _all_ the work," she reminded him, looking like she enjoyed telling him.

Erik flushed slightly. He knew he was caught and that there was absolutely no way out of this.

"All right," he gave in, already wondering what he was getting himself into.

"I'll have to come over to your place or you'll have to come over to mine," she continued, "yours has a lot more room and you have a better sound system."

Erik had only been to Christina's a few times. She owned a small gray house at the edge of town. She tried to keep it as nice as she could, but the house was very old and starting to fall apart. The neighbors were less than considerate with dogs that liked to relieve themselves in Christina's flowerbeds. Their yard was also filled with old, rusty cars that didn't run anymore and all other kinds of junk. Erik had disliked them immediately and only Christine's hand on his arm restrained him from giving the rude, inconsiderate jerks a piece of his mind. He couldn't wait until they were married and he could get her out of that place.

"I look forward to it," Erik said, actually telling the truth.

She smiled.

"I have grades to put in," she said, gesturing to her temperamental computer, "and lunch period's almost over."

Erik reluctantly went back to his own classroom and waited for the fifth period students to come in. His head was filled with thoughts of Christina and unspoken questions.

As it turned out, Erik picked up the moves much faster than either he or Christina expected. Erik had a very good memory, it was just getting used to acting rather than reacting. The music went quite fast and it was difficult to keep up with at times. Although Erik knew the beats, the music, and lyrics backwards and forwards, he had to pair the movements and beats together. Christina spent the first couple of hours after school teaching Erik the movements to all of the songs, then they spent from there until late at night practicing. The only breaks that they took were bathroom trips, water breaks, and dinner. Erik was in relatively good shape, but he was still really tired by the time Christina went home. It felt good to stretch his aching limbs out in a steaming bath, then fall into bed and not move until morning. It took them two or three days to memorize everything so that they could show the class. In the meantime, Erik taught the class the music. Christina's class was having the time of their lives working in the choir room and many of the students talked in between songs. After Erik and Christina could both do the dances to the songs without messing up at all, it was time for a demonstration.

"Hey, everybody who's in music, come see the dances!" Christina called. Everyone got up from their chairs and gathered around Erik and Christina in a circle. Erik felt a little strange: he was so used to watching performances undercover that he didn't know if he could get used to being in one. Thankfully, it was only temporary. Samantha pushed the button on the stereo and everyone clapped to the rhythm while Erik and Christina moved. Erik was a little unsure of himself in some places, but Christina's hands holding his kept him together. Everyone clapped when the song was over.

"Dude, I didn't know you could dance!" someone said.

Erik wiped the thin layer of sweat that had begun to rise on his forehead.

"Neither did I," he responded truthfully. There were a few chuckles, but mostly whispers about what a good team he and Christina made. Then, they divided up the class. Christina taught the girls their moves and Erik taught the boys. The boys didn't really get into the dances the way the girls did, so they were a little harder to teach. By the end of the day, Erik was glad they weren't all his sons, though they may as well have been. Christina's car was a very welcome sight. She said she wanted to go see Margie.

A strange sight greeted them when they got closer to Margie's house. Just as they pulled up in the driveway, Margie appeared in the door, but she wasn't alone. An old man about her age was there and they were kissing rather passionately. When they pulled away, the man was grinning like a schoolboy.

"Erik, Christina," Margie said, giggling like a little girl, "this is Stuart. We met at the rec center over a Bingo game."

Erik and Christina looked at each other and tried not to burst out laughing. They managed it, but it was tough.

"Well, love, I'd better get going," Stuart said, his voice containing a thick British accent, "Sugar won't like it if her dinner's late."

"Stuart's cat," Margie explained as he got into his little blue car that looked like it would fall to pieces any second.

"Something tells me we're going to have a double wedding on our hands," Christina whispered into Erik's ear while Margie hurried to get the tea and cookies. A squeeze of his hand over hers told her she was probably right.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A/N: Sorry this took so darn long. It's a struggle to get anything done when you have two muses battling for space in your imagination. glares over shoulder Isn't that right, boys?

Erik: is holding Blackheart up in the air with the Punjab lasso around his neck Tell him to stop setting my organ on fire! He's gone through three of them in two days!

Blackheart: throws a punch at Erik, but misses Tell him to stop playing that God-awful organ music! I can't concentrate to freeze people to death if he keeps doing it!

Me: ENOUGH! they let go of each other and retreat to opposite sides of the room, glaring at each other You'll just have to work it out yourselves. Until I get these stories finished, your butts are mine unless some other fangirl calls you. Now shut up so I can concentrate! goes back to typing on the computer and mutters under breath

Chapter 14

January began to fade into February. Just as it would warm up a little and melt all the snow, another snowstorm would move in. Erik was beginning to wonder if he would ever see the sun again. No one, however, was as disgruntled as the janitor. The poor old guy would just get the place cleaned up and students would track snow in and it would melt all over the place.

Erik had just peeled off the layers of cold-weather clothes and lain them aside when he noticed something different about his classroom. While he sipped at a cup of coffee, he wandered around. There were paintings hanging up everywhere. Some of them were portraits of some of his students singing. Some of them were dancing. It was interesting to see that no two of the drawings were the same. The perspectives were so different... there was one that he noticed of Samantha. Someone had painted her while she was singing. The whole thing was done in somber gray and black tones and gave an element of seriousness to her. Right next to that painting, there was one of her dancing. This picture was done in bright, wild colors and Samantha was dancing with Brad, her mouth open in breathless laughter. It made him smile a little bit. Then, there was one of Victoria giving the person watching her a grin that implied she knew something that the painter didn't. Erik liked that picture; it seemed to suit her. Then, there was one that really got his attention.

Someone had painted him and Christina. They were standing in front of the mirror and Erik was holding her from behind. Christina's head was leaned back against Erik's shoulder and her curls cascaded in soft waves against his upper arm. His arms encircled her waist and her hands were on top of his. The good side of his face was resting against the top of her head and the mask was reflected in the mirror. Both their eyes were closed and they were both smiling. The engagement ring on Christina's finger had been so lovingly done that it seemed to glint before his eyes.

"That's my favorite, too," Christina said. Erik turned around to see her coming in with an armful of paint jugs. He helped her set them out.

"James Cantley did that one. I think he's showing a lot of promise," she said, gesturing to the ring in the painting, "I entered him in next month's contest. I can't wait until it warms up, then we can do chalk drawings outside."

Erik also noticed another painting that caught his attention. There was a picture of Samantha singing and she had two angel wings, but they appeared to be made out of music sheets.

"She did that one," Christina said, following Erik's gaze, "she says that music gives her so much freedom. I think she's come a long way."

"She has," Erik agreed, then, curious, "when did they finish all of these paintings?"

"Some of them were done within the first week. I just picked the lock and came in here to hang them all up this weekend. Surprised?"

"Yes."

"I thought this room could use a little decoration," Christina said.

They sipped at coffee while they waited for the students. Nearly everyone was late, but Erik forgave them due to the ice on the roads. Why they hadn't just cancelled school, he didn't know.

By lunchtime, the snow had gotten progressively worse. Everyone was sent home. Since Erik didn't live very far, Christina went with him. Samantha had gone with Brad to his house before she'd been able to say a word, but she trusted Samantha.

Upon reaching Erik's house, they found that the power was out. Erik wasn't too worried, they had the fireplace, but Margie was another story. They went to her house only to find her gone. A note was pinned to the door:

_Erik and Christina,_

_Knew you would come looking for me. Don't worry; Stuart and I are miles away! We got married this morning at the courthouse! Isn't that wonderful? I know the two of you are probably disappointed, but don't be, dears. When you're as old as we are, you don't have much time to waste. Rest assured that we will be back in time for your wedding in April when all this blasted snow is gone. _

_Love, Margie._

"Well, I'll be darned! I didn't know the old girl had it in her!" Christina laughed. Erik chuckled.

"I suppose Margie will never run out of surprises," he agreed.

"Well, let's go laugh about it inside where it's warm," Christina shivered, "I think my toes and legs and everything else is going numb!"

They were almost to the door when Erik's field of vision suddenly went white. He rubbed the offending snow off of his face and turned around to see where the attack had come from. Keith and Brad were pointing at the two teachers and laughing.

"Gotcha, man!" Keith snickered.

The sinister Phantom of the Opera grin appeared on Erik's face. He was never one to back down without a fight.

"Uh-oh!"

Brad ducked behind the fence as Erik balled up a clump of snow. He chased after the two boys, lithe as a cat. Even when the two teenagers were slip-sliding all over the place due to the ice, Erik kept his balance very well. Since they kept falling over, Erik had more time to get them.

A well-aimed snowball knocked him over. He sat up, rubbing his face. When his vision cleared, Samantha stood there. Christina got her from behind.

Victoria also appeared. The snowball fight went on for a long time. Finally, they were all freezing and took shelter in Erik's house. The hot chocolate and hot tea flowed freely as they thawed out in front of the fireplace.

"I have an idea," Brad said, "let's go sledding."

"With what?" Keith asked.

Everyone gathered up whatever they could find, including trash can lids, old air mattresses, pool floats, clothes baskets, and plastic bins. Within minutes, they were assembled at the top of a tall hill.

"I have a secret weapon," Brad said, whipping out a can of nonstick cooking spray. He gave everyone's makeshift sled a good coating of it on the bottom. How Erik ended up on one of the old air mattresses sandwiched between a bunch of teenagers, he did not know. Then, someone pushed them and the whole world went crazy.

Erik let out a yelp when they were suddenly spinning. Victoria's dark hair was whipping in his face and it felt as though Samantha was going to squeeze him to death from behind. Girls' screams and boys' yells filled the air. Brightly colored coats, hats, and scarves and trees were all mixed up. By the time the world stopped tossing and turning, Erik was laying on his back, still half-way on the mattress. His legs were up in the air and he was so dazed for a second that his vision was blurry. Victoria pulled herself out of a waist-deep drift. Brad peeled himself out of the snow where he'd fallen face-down. Keith was still laughing crazily even though he'd almost banged into a tree. Erik shook his head and tried to get up. The first attempt was unsuccessful and he fell down again. The second attempt was better and he staggered, still dizzy, back up the hill. Despite the craziness, even he couldn't deny that he wasn't having fun. While the teenagers were preoccupied with their antics of trying to figure out how to get the makeshift sleds to go even faster, Erik stole a kiss from Christina. They'd kissed several times before, but there was something different about this one. Just as things got a little heated, a yelp made them both jump apart. Victoria made a face at Brad, who'd sent her careening into a snowdrift.

Christina's face was brightly flushed. Erik felt his own blood rising in his cheeks. Tiny beads of sweat had popped out on his forehead and his breath did not come easily. Maybe it was for the better that they'd gotten interrupted. Trying their best to pretend it hadn't happened, they went back to the sledding.

It was still harder to pretend it hadn't happened that night. Christina had borrowed one of Erik's bathrobes. She was sitting on the couch downstairs. Every little sound was oddly loud. She mentally shook herself.

_Erik and I are together! Why do I feel so guilty! It was just a kiss, right?_

Wrong.

She knew that Erik had been through Hell most of his life. She knew she loved him. So now, when she had tasted his passion, did she feel so scared? She was a grown woman, for God's sakes! She could do whatever she wanted! Samantha supported them both wholeheartedly and the whole community knew they were together and were going to get married anyway, so why not?

She knew perfectly well why not.

She was frightened.

This had never happened before.

The unknown scared her.

She began to try to sing to drown out her own insecurities. Ironically enough, she was singing "Strong Enough" by Sheryl Crow. Did she think Erik was strong enough?

Bam. The doubt hit her like an eighteen-wheeler truck. She wanted so much to believe that he was, and yet, she was afraid he'd break. The Phantom of the Opera story haunted her in the back of her mind. The good side of his face looked a lot like Gerard Butler, yes, but those eyes...they held an intensity that the actor's never could. They changed colors and betrayed his emotions very easily. She could read him like a book. Part of her truly believed he was the Phantom himself.

By the time Erik finally stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, Christina had worked herself into quite a frenzy. She paced around, trying to work off her nerves. Nothing helped. She turned the radio on. When a slow song played, she did a few ballet movements while the piano notes rang out softly. She willed herself to stop thinking such overwhelming, invasive thoughts, but they cascaded past her weak mental wall.

Christina heard Erik coming down the stairs and wasn't paying attention. She fell and a sharp pain in her ankle told her she'd screwed up. Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them back. Erik could NOT see her cry or he'd know it was more than just the ankle. Before she could stagger to her feet, Erik appeared in the doorway.

"Christina," he started to say, then he noticed her on the tiled floor. Gently, he tried to help her up. The ankle screamed and she almost pitched forward. He picked her up and carried her to the couch.

"What happened?"

The concern in his voice and his gentle face hurt like shards of glass. Without betraying the inner turmoil that had suddenly developed, she choked out, "my ankle."

He sat down beside her and gently lifted her leg so that he could see. She winced a little as his fingers probed it.

"You've twisted it a little, but it will heal in a couple of days," he assured her, "I'll get some ice."

Christina watched his retreating back. The scent of the soap he used wafted to her nose and chill bumps rose up all over her. She willed it to stop and wanted to scream in frustration. She'd never felt like this before and it was terrifying.

Erik returned with an ice pack and gently placed her injured ankle on a pillow. Then, with hands as steady as a doctor's, he placed the ice on it. He took Christina's shivering as being cold and retrieved a blanket for her. He wrapped it around her shoulders and sat down behind her, easing her back to lay her upper body in his lap. Christina's heart began to thunder. She internally scolded herself for acting like an adolescent girl. Erik's gentle fingers ran through her chocolate curls. The anxious, frightening thoughts she'd had of him began to dim into a fog. The last thing she saw was his sweet, concerned face before her eyes closed. How could she possibly think he was a monster?

Her proof came the next morning when she woke up alone in the guest bedroom. Cautiously, she stood. Her ankle was stiff, but it didn't hurt too bad. She limped to Erik's room and quietly pushed the door open.

Erik was, as she expected, fast asleep. He'd tossed his shirt off at some point in the night and one hand rested on his smooth, pale belly. Just as she'd expected, he was muscular, but the muscle was lean. The other arm stretched out of sight under a pillow. His mouth was slightly open, but the sound of his breath was barely audible. His mask lay on the night table and his deformed face was exposed.

She felt so guilty and couldn't figure out why.

Very, very carefully so as not to wake him up, she got in bed with him. Although he was still asleep, Erik's arms curled around her protectively. It was the last time Christina ever got cold feet. As she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of wedding dresses and springtime.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I apologize profusely for the pause in updates, but college life gets very hectic once you hit Junior year

A/N: I apologize profusely for the pause in updates, but college life gets very hectic once you hit Junior year. I also wanted to take my time on this chapter because it's very special, so that's what took me so long. My muse hasn't exactly been doing his job lately because he's obviously had so many others to grace with his presence.

Erik: snores loudly from bed, looking exhausted and fast asleep

Blackheart: (rolls eyes)

Me: Yeah. So, anyway, I do hope you all didn't give up on me. Two muses at one time isn't the easiest thing in the world to keep up with and a third may potentially arrive here soon. If we're lucky, one of the other film-version Phantoms may visit.

Blackheart: (smacks forehead). Not another one.

Chapter 15

The snow slowly melted. At first, the world was a sea of bare tree limbs and limp, muddy grass. But the sun caressed the land with its kindly presence and the green buds began to cautiously emerge. Once certain that another frost wouldn't cruelly bite them away, they burst into colorful blooms. Waves of rippling green grass dotted with wildflowers spread over the land and the air was pleasantly warm.

The day of the wedding came so fast that Erik's head was spinning. As promised, Margie and Stuart did return and they greeted Erik with warm hugs before taking their seats in the sanctuary of the church. Erik paced back and forth, waiting for his cue to go forward. Brad, Keith, and a few other boys from class were acting as ushers. Samantha, Victoria, and a few other girls from class were Christina's bridesmaids. The music started and Erik took a deep breath before stepping through the double doors.

The preacher smiled. He was young, but the town loved him. He had black hair and bright blue eyes that were the color of an electricity spark; his smile held just as much energy. He gave Erik a knowing nudge when the pianist began playing the bride's march.

Erik's breath caught in his throat. The feeling that welled up inside of him was so immense that he felt as though his body was too small to contain it.

Christina, accompanied by an aging gentleman that had her bright sparkling brown eyes, came down the aisle towards him. He guessed that the man was her father. She wore a cream-colored strapless dress that had a long flowing skirt. Behind her, the train of the dress trailed the deep red carpet. The veil was a simple veil that was held onto the back of Christina's head by a ring of small white rose blossoms. Her hair was sleek and smooth, pulled back into a tight bun. On her feet, she had matching cream-colored ballet flats decorated with little ribbons tied in bows and a strand of pearls around her neck shone in the natural sunlight that was allowed to pour into the room. The makeup she wore was simple and natural-looking.

Christina's father eased her hands into his. Then, the preacher began to speak.

Erik had to be honest about it later; he didn't hear most of what the preacher was saying. He was too busy drinking in the image of Christina.

He could hardly believe that she was going to be all his.

She squeezed his hands and Erik snapped out of his trance. For a moment, the disastrous scene of Don Juan Triumphant, the moment that had been his downfall, flashed before his eyes. He blinked and the image disappear.

"Repeat after me," the preacher was saying, "I, Erik Beaumont..."

"I, Erik Beaumont,"

"...take this woman, Christina Bunn,"

"...take this woman, Christine-a Bunn,"

"...to be my lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health.."

Erik internally breathed a sigh of relief. They had not caught his temporary slip.

"...in sickness and in health..."

The rest of that part went off without a hitch. Before he knew it, they reached the biggest moment in his life.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Margie gave Erik an encouraging smile. Brad and Keith were elbowing each other and snickering. The preacher glowed with the energy that came from the extreme satisfaction that came from one's job. Erik's lips met Christina's in a way that made his heart stop for a moment. Cheers roared all around them, but they only had eyes for each other.

"I now present to you, Erik and Christine Beaumont!" The Preacher closed his Bible and clapped his hands together. The entire wedding party was making enough noise to wake the dead. Erik had never especially liked chaos, even when he caused it, but now, it felt right.

"Yo, man! We gonna be late to our own party!" Keith called. Everyone stampeded towards the reception area.

Instead of a huge white wedding cake, Margie had whipped up an excellent homemade chocolate cake with raspberry cream icing and candy flowers. One of Christina's fourth year senior students had sculpted ceramic figures of Erik and Christine and the finished art stood proudly on top of the cake. It was the perfect day for a reception and everyone was thrilled to feast on the southern traditions of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and other such things. Samantha and the other bridesmaids were quite a vision in their cherry-colored strapless gowns and beautifully curled hair. The whole outdoor garden was decorated in red and white roses and balloons. Someone had brought their iPod and music was blasting over the speakers. Erik quickly stepped over to it and switched it to a slower song that wouldn't blow everyone's ears out. Suddenly, the tune was oddly familiar. All eyes turned on the newly married couple as Erik and Christina sang the biggest duet of their life.

_Say you'll share with me_

_one love, one lifetime,_

_let me lead you from your solitude,_

_say you'll share each night_

_each morning,_

_anywhere you go, let me go too._

_Love me, that's all I ask of you..._

_Anywhere you go, let me go too..._

_Love me, that's all I ask of you..._

The music swelled behind their voices. Everyone who knew the story of the Phantom of the Opera song sang with them, making the world erupt in a chorus that would make all the rest of the world jealous.

The song faded gradually and everyone began to mingle. "Everytime we touch" by Cascada began to play and Erik and Christina enjoyed their first slow-dance together as husband and wife.

Christina slid into his embrace. She lay her head against his shoulder, breathing softly. The unmasked side of Erik's face brushed against her chocolate curls and he inhaled her intoxicating scent. His strong arms surrounded her, promising to protect her and hold her.

Had it really been almost nine months since the Angel of Music had whisked him away from a terrible fate? It seemed as though the first years of his life and his obsession with Christine had been nothing but a horrible dream. Never in his life had he felt so alive...his body tingled pleasantly in the warm sunshine as he and Christina melted into each others' embraces. It was there that he felt the pieces of his once broken spirit meld back together. It was moments like this that he believed anything was possible. It was moments like this that he believed God could exist.

After cutting the cake, throwing the bouquet (which Victoria caught), and numerous pictures later, the happy couple was whisked away on a plane to none other than Paris. As the cab drove down the street, Erik made a comical sight with his head hanging out the window.

God, Paris had changed so much! There were more people, more modern buildings, more technology. But it still retained its historic charm.

Then, Erik saw something that absolutely stopped his heart for a moment. They passed the Opera House.

"Stop!" he yelled, causing the cab driver to slam on the brakes and Christina to scream.

"Erik, what's the matter?" she asked, visibly frightened.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "there was just something I wanted to see."

She swallowed hard and nodded, her beautiful face pale. Knowing full well that this day would come sooner or later, she unbuckled her seatbelt and they both got out of the car.

"Erik, I have a confession to make," Christina said as she struggled to keep up with Erik, who was almost sprinting towards the back alley behind the Opera Populaire. His hands wrapped around the rusty iron grate and he tugged at it until it came loose. Unfortunately, the force slung him backwards and he landed on his bottom. Christina helped him up and he pulled her through the hidden door.

"Erik," she started to say again, but he held a finger to his lips. Erik wasn't thinking about how this would all appear to her; he could only think about seeing what the inside of the place looked like now. Understanding that he was not going to hear her, she followed him. As they walked through the damp tunnels, a strange tingle filled her. Why did this place seem so familiar? She knew she'd never been here. Maybe she'd watched the movie one too many times.

She saw a childlike grin appear on Erik's face and tried to follow his gaze. He was looking at a small canoe sitting in a canal nearby. Without hesitation, he got right in and gestured for Christina to follow him. Knowing she had to trust him completely, she got in and sat down as he poled them down the canal.

"Erik, I take it you've been here before?" she asked, but Erik was silent. His gaze held the intense look of concentration he had when his mind was filling up with music. They had no candles, so they were immersed in complete darkness at times, but Christina wasn't afraid. She trusted him, knowing that he knew where he was going.

They came to an area that felt much more open. Behind her, she heard Erik fumbling around for something. A loud creak sounded in front of them and Erik nudged the boat forward. Then, suddenly, candlesticks emerged from under the water and lit by themselves. The couple was cast in a soft orange glow.

Christina closed her eyes for a moment. The sound of a duet echoed in her mind. There was an image of a woman here that looked just like her, but she wore an antique costume and ballet slippers. She was also a little afraid of Erik. It was as though she were seeing that day through the other girl's eyes. Her heart nearly stopped beating and she felt faint and dizzy for a moment.

"Just as I remembered," Erik said softly, "I can't believe it."

He eased her out of the boat and she held onto his strong arm for support. Sensing her weakness, he held her close to his side with one arm while he lit one of the candles with the other hand.

"Erik," Christina tried again, squeezing his hand.

He turned his head to look at her.

"Erik, I have a confession to make."

She staggered a little and he eased her down into a nearby chair.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I think I'm Christine."

Then, she blacked out.

Erik carefully picked her up. With some luck, the swan bed was still down here somewhere. He hadn't meant to frighten her, but he'd been so caught up in finding out what had changed.

Erik breathed a sigh of relief. The bed was still down here. It was covered in cobwebs, but it would be good as new with a good dusting. He lay Christina down on the covers and gently rubbed her forehead until she revived.

"Are you all right?" he asked, internally cursing his disregard for her.

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little dizzy. It was the strangest thing, Erik...it's as though I have my memories, but I have hers, too."

Erik frowned, sitting down beside her on the bed.

"It's possible that you're not her, but rather a reincarnation of her."

She saw the fear surfacing within him by his tense posture. The only sound that could be heard was the guttering of the candles and dripping water.

"So, I'm her, but I'm me, too, right? What about you?"

Erik took her into his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I was never reborn," he admitted, "I came to Roan Hills after the real Angel of Music came to rescue me."

"I knew it," she whispered, "I knew you were the real thing."

She could see the hesitant questions in his eyes.

"All my life, I dreamed you were real," she said, her hand caressing his smooth, cool cheek, "from the day I read your story to the day I saw the musical to the day I met you. I think I'm very lucky to have married the one and only Phantom of the Opera."

Erik's heart shone with love. Not only did she know who he was, but she loved him even more for it.

"Show me the Opera House," Christina said, smoothing out her skirts, "I've always wondered what it was like. I don't remember very much.

Hand in hand, they ventured towards the surface. The Opera House was largely unoccupied and the windows were boarded up. It was still singed in places where the chandelier flames had licked it. Most of the damage had been cosmetic, however, and could easily be fixed.

"Here is where we officially met," Erik said, sliding the mirror aside so that they could step through it, "you were sitting there when I called to you."

He pointed to the dressing table.

They ventured down the corridors, past Madame and Meg Giry's old rooms, past the ballet dormitories, and past the managers' offices. They eventually emerged onstage. A pit of ash and glass shards still showed where the chandelier had originally crashed, but the chandelier itself was gone. Erik remembered that his music box had also been missing, but hadn't thought to wonder where it was. Many of the golden statues were covered in ash and cobwebs, but their ageless beauty still shone through in places. Flashes of the deep red velvet also shone through the gray ash-coated chairs.

"I'm so sorry of the trouble I caused you that night," Christina said guiltily, tears threatening to emerge as she examined the destroyed room.

"Don't be. That was another place, another lifetime. That wasn't you," Erik told her. For a moment, they stood side by side on the stage in a moment of silence as the memories washed over them.

"Come. I'll bet the cab driver's already left us or he'll be wondering where we are," Christina laughed.

They left the stage, the only trace that they had been there the footprints left in the ash. The cab driver had stayed, but he warned them that they would be charged extra. They simply grinned at each other like children who shared a secret. As they locked the door to their hotel room, it was as though they were locking away every single bad memory out of their lives forever.

They could not see the Angel of Music who flew around Paris that night, but it was smiling down on them.

"I have granted your wish, Erik Beaumont," It said proudly, "and now, my final blessing. You shall pass on your gift. Now, new soul, go to your new parents!"

He held in his right hand a glowing white ball. With a mighty fling, he hurled it through the hotel roof and watched as it drifted past all the other rooms. Where the two lovers lay with their limbs entwined in their bed, it hovered over them for just a moment before sinking into Christina's bare belly.

"Goodnight, my friends," the Angel whispered lovingly before disappearing into a flash of light.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A/N: SURPRISE!! I got you all!! Chapter 15 wasn't the REAL ending! (points and laughs) I couldn't leave you guys hanging, now could I? Besides that, I wanted to thank you all so much for the lovely reviews I got. They meant the world for me and were a great source of inspiration!

Erik: (sighs) I guess this is goodbye, Sybl.

Me: Yeah (wipes away tear). It's been a pleasure working with you all summer. Who could have asked for a better muse? Well, I bet the millions of Phangirls can't wait for you to go visit them.

Erik: (sighs) Don't remind me. (finishes packing suitcase).

Me: Well, you know you always have a place in my hard drive, and my heart, my mind, and on my couch.

Erik: (waves goodbye and walks out the door only to be mobbed by Phangirls…bangs at the door) WAIT! LET ME BACK IN!

(The Phangirls carry Erik off and argue over who gets him next.)

_Nine Months Later_

Erik sighed and paced the floor. Once in a while, he would go check on Christina until the nurses chased him out. He wondered what secrets they were keeping in there.

"Yo, Mr. Beaumont! You look beat!"

Erik turned to see Brad and Keith.

"Christina went into labor at three this morning," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead, "and they won't let me stay."

"She's a tough young woman," Margie said, patting his shoulder, "she'll be all right. Shall I get you a cup of coffee?"

Erik nodded and she and her husband ambled off, arm in arm, to get it. They seemed to be together all the time now. Erik liked Stuart well enough, but he missed the days when it had just been he, Margie, Christina, and sometimes Samantha. He didn't mind it, though. It was the first time that so many people had been directly involved in his life.

A cry from Christina made him cringe visibly and he went back into the room despite the nurses' protests. Christina's small hand felt as though it was going to break all of his fingers if she squeezed any harder, but Erik ignored the pain. The other hand gently rubbed her belly, which was ridiculously huge on her compared to the rest of her body. It looked like she'd swallowed a beach ball sometimes, but he dared not say anything. For the last few months, he'd endured backaches, leg cramps, food cravings, sudden bouts of crying, and being thrown up on. Erik had worked very hard to try to keep Christina happy (mainly because it was his job, baby or not) and now, he would see the results.

Christina's hand tightened around his painfully. A doctor came tearing in and skidded to a halt at the foot of the bed. He could hear a few more voices outside, which could only mean more of his students had arrived. It was going to be a special year; this would be the last year he had them before they graduated. The other students were just as special, but they would never be his first group.

He felt Christina's effort, not just under his hand on her belly, but throughout her whole body. He could sense the effort of the labor in her soul.

"One more," the doctor said, "and you'll see the mystery baby whose gender you didn't want us to tell you yet."

She gave a tremendous push and a thin, wailing cry filled the room. For one moment, Erik was sure his heart stopped beating as the doctor lifted the pink, wriggling, wet thing that Christina had carried in her womb for these long months.

"Congratulations," the doctor said, holding the baby up, "you have a daughter."

He placed the baby in Christina's arms and clamped the cord shut. Erik's eyes filled with joyous tears. He felt as though the feeling inside of him was so big that his body was too small to contain it. The child that lay on Christina's heaving chest had no evidence of deformity at all. Even though she was red and wrinkly, Erik loved her more with each passing second.

"Would you like to cut the cord?" the doctor asked, holding out the shears. Very cautiously, Erik separated his child and his wife.

"What's her name?" a nurse asked.

Christina and Erik looked up at each other.

"Her name is Melody," Christina said, kissing the baby on her tiny little nose. Erik's heart swelled even more. Melody...what a perfect name! He could easily imagine her running through their house as she got older, pecking inquisitively at the organ keys, and learning how to sing. She would be the most beautiful child in the world. For a split second, the baby opened her eyes and Erik was surprised to see that she had golden-green eyes just like his.

"Go tell them," Christina whispered as the nurses took the baby to weigh her and clean her up. Erik was swarmed with hugs the instant he stepped into the hallway, a huge victory smile on his face.

After Christina and Erik brought Melody home and everyone was gone, Christina sank into her rocking chair with a sigh of relief.

"I love them, but it'll be nice to have some peace and quiet," Christina breathed. Right at that instant, Melody began to cry. She'd already eaten, burped, and her diaper had already been changed. She just wanted attention, Erik guessed. He held out his hands for Melody and Christina was all too happy to exchange her for a few moments of rest. She flopped over on the bed and closed her eyes. It wouldn't be five minutes before Christina would be fast asleep.

Erik carried Melody over to the windows where the moonlight was coming in by silver streams. The light made her skin turn a silvery color and she paused in her whimpering when Erik's finger stroked her cheek.

"Nighttime sharpens,

heightens each sensation,

darkness stirs

and wakes imagination

silently the senses

abandon their defenses

helpless to the notes that I write

for I compose the music of the night..."

Melody grasped his finger in hers. There was surprising strength in her tiny hand. Maybe he could teach her violin one day.

"Close your eyes and surrender

to your sweetest dreams

leave all thoughts

of your tears behind

close your eyes

and let music set you free

then sail away on your moonlight wings..."

Christina, he noticed, was out for sure. He smiled, looking at her chocolate curls spilling over the cream-colored pillowcase.

"Softly, gently, music shall caress you,

hear it, feel it

secretly possess you

open up your mind,

let your fantasies unwind

in this darkness that you know

you cannot fight

the darkness of the music of the night...

Let your mind start a journey

to a strange new world

leave all thoughts of the life you knew behind

let your soul take you where you long to be...

only then...can you...belong...to me..."

Melody stopped whimpering and yawned as Erik continued rearranging the lyrics of his song for her. He looked over at her crib, but he just didn't have the heart to put her in there. Across the room may as well have been miles away. Instead, he eased back onto the bed with Melody still nestled against his chest and shoulder.

"You alone can make my song take flight...

help me make the music of the...

night..."

Just as Erik's own eyelids started to drift closed, Melody started in again and Erik was forced to get up to keep her from waking Christina again. Christina was tired and needed her rest. Erik, on the other hand, was accustomed to late nights.

"No more talk of darkness,

forget these wide-eyed fears,

I'm here, nothing can harm you,

my words will warm and calm you,

let me be your freedom,

let moonlight dry your tears...

I'm here, with you beside you,

to hold you and to love you...

Say you'll share with me

one love, one lifetime,

say the word and I will follow you

Share each day with me, each night

each morning...

anywhere you go, let me go too...

that's all I ask of you..."

Melody was finally asleep, her warm little body completely relaxed against Erik's arms and chest. He kissed her forehead as gently as he could, easing back down to lay beside Christina.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too...

that's all I ask of you..."


End file.
